Celestial
by Intelligxnce
Summary: “Starlight will be my guide. No vacuum will contain me.” [FULL SUMMARY IN PROLOGUE] Ren, an awoken, Hunter Guardian, has been present since the establishment of The Last City. From the Battle of Six Fronts to the Red War, she has watched and witnessed as all life around her has been consumed by the darkness. During so, she is chosen and deemed worthy by the Celestial Nighthawk.
1. PROLOGUE

"Starlight will be my guide. No vacuum will contain me."

Ren, an awoken, Hunter Guardian, has been present since the establishment of The Last City. From the Battle of Six Fronts to the Red War, she has watched and witnessed as all life around her has been consumed by the darkness. During so, she is chosen and deemed worthy by the Celestial Nighthawk, and her will is slowly stolen from her being. Personalities are altered and relationships are shattered. Join Ren in past and present as she tells her story of her health deterioration and treacherous love with an all too familiar Commander.

* * *

Celestial

A Destiny Fanfiction

* * *

The stars would speak to me sometimes—.

In a language that was faint, yet familiar. Their light would engulf me in strings of scheming whispers and so I'd yield and my heart would ember in response. Such actions were imminent and the words would forever imprint on my awoken flesh.

The memory of the day I was chosen is one that was burned into my skull for the world to see. I still bear the scars that scream hostile vibes and paint a warning to those who dare cross my path.

"Your fire," Brask had said to me, "will never be outgunned."

He was there that day. Along with the other vanguards. He witnessed as I undertook the full power of a star, compelled to surrender to its influence and forever become a thrall of its light. That is, if it deemed me worthy to wield it, and it would, which was the most horrifying part of it all. Brask had numbed the atmosphere with his void while I shrieked in excruciating agony as the solar radiation conquered my frame and permanently embedded it's exoticism on my mind. Zavala held my hand and Ikora merely spectated, as she too experienced the power of the elements, as they all have. But not like this. Not like this.

The Speaker was present as well, being more amazed and intrigued rather than concerned for my highly possible demise or of the physical and mental damage that can happen to me if I fail ITS trial of will. "The Nighthawk had been comatose since the beginning of the Collapse but awoke in response to your light," he had said with evident astonishment, "Wield it with your coherent appetite for vengeance, Guardian."

I was a rose among thorns, and I could feel as my crimson petals were set ablaze and the colors of my individuality were pigmented into a foul, constricted grey. If you looked close enough, one would swear you could see the steam that evaporated off my flesh due to the temperature of the helmet's affect. Even as a Guardian, one can only handle so much strain to one's physique, so if the Traveler had not of been by my side that day, who knows, perhaps I wouldn't be here today, writing out my life-mares for an unforgiving, dying universe to peruse.

When a Guardian gets their hands on an exotic engram and receives gear or instruments of mass light from the Cryptarch, that's it. You may gain a few impressed pats on the back for having a new, rare piece from clan-mates or fireteam members, but after its over with, end of story. Whether it be a pair of gauntlets or new boots, every Guardian has their exotic, some lucky enough to find many, others, not so lucky and end up wasting a week of searching and fighting when they are supposed to be patrolling their assigned territory.

Most think exotic weapons or gear have a mind of their own, that they are alive and choose their wielder based on their amount of determination and light. I didn't. I was never one to believe in fairy tales, in gossip or mere myths. A weapon is a weapon, armor was armor, some enhanced your light, while others dealt more damage. That was all that mattered. As long as I had something to aid me in pushing back the real enemy, I was good. I didn't need an exotic. But I would. And I would eventually be chosen.

What is that, exactly? The real enemy.

The Fallen?

The Hive?

The Vex?

The Cabal?

Taken?

I thought so, when I was an amateur, fighting for a city that was inhabited with enhanced beings who wielded the Travelers light for faulty reasons. People never want to point fingers at themselves for being the cause of others actions. Even when it is fact.

I remember the day the Last City was established. I was there. When the Speaker, a warlock, rose to power and set up the Vanguard and the Consensus, with Osiris as Warlock Vanguard, Saint-14 as Titan, and Tallulah Fairwind as Hunter Vanguard who eventually was killed. I remember The Battle of Six Fronts, my first major battle. I remember when Osiris was deemed Vanguard Commander and shortly after was exiled by the Speaker due to his obsession with the nature of the Darkness and misuse of resources. I remember fighting in Twilight Gap. Being pushed to our limits with the smell of defeat beginning to conquer our atmosphere. I remember as Saladin and Zavala ordered us to fall back, but Shaxx protested and demanded all Guardians to push forward in the very end and officially win the war. I remember when Saint-14 disappeared on a mission to Mercury to prevent Osiris from disturbing the Vex after his crusades against the fallen. I remember the Battle of Burning Lake, The Great Disaster, The Great Ahamkara Hunt. I remember as my best friend and teacher, Andal Brask's, hand was ripped from my grasp and watched as his light and life was extinguished by Taniks, the Scarred. I watched as the city was rebuilt and prospered. Watched as Zavala rose to the Commander mantle, Ikora Rey to Warlock Vanguard and Cayde-6 to Hunter as he lost his bet to Brask. I remember the birth of the Crucible and witnessed as more and more Guardians began to awaken.

I remember The Black Garden.

I remember the Vault of Glass.

The House of Wolves and the Tyrant Skolas.

The fall of Crota, Son of Oryx and soon after, Oryx himself.

The rise of SIVA and Aksis.

I was there all along, observing and seeing it all transpire. Wondering why it all was occurring in the first place without even thinking to take a second glance at my own.

I was a demented. I was a hypocrite. And I was in love.

I can not remember the day I was born. I am a child of both the darkness and light, my skin proves such a description. I was one of the first, born not long after the Collapse. Not a day went by when others would take second glances at me for being different. Whispers were exchanged and obvious hints of avoidance were expressed. It wasn't until the Traveler chose me and I took on the role of Guardian serving under the Speaker that I was seen as something greater than a strange face in the crowd.

When one takes on such a role, you make a promise. No more tears. No more being afraid. No more bullshit. You pledge your allegiance to the cause and the City. You aren't allowed a normal life anymore, whatever "normal" means in such a world. You aren't allowed to love and devote yourself to something that can affect your loyalty to the City. It's your job. and you have to abide by the rules. But people would anyway. But I would anyway.

Before the Nighthawk, I was a kindred spirit to the city. Not a hint of unfaithfulness was painted on my flesh, a thrall of the light. Everything would change after, though. I would be consumed with rampage. Friendships were destroyed and my relationship was shattered. I was chosen to be a royal knight that belonged to the Traveler, but one body can only hold in so much light before being devoured from the inside-out. When the light of the Celestial reaches it's peak, it must be released soon or the host will be affected both physically and mentally. So much power within one bullet was one that was capable of cutting through a planet's core if the wielded was accurate.

Perhaps it's why everyone was so afraid of me when my exotic chose me. That, or the fact people fear what they don't understand. Nowadays, Cryptarch's have the abilities to duplicate exotics, but the Celestial Nighthawk was a code that was impossible to crack. It only has one host at a time and chooses it's own wielder based on determination, retaliation, and the wielders amount of light. It chooses off of personality, therefore it is stubborn. But not all candidates are worthy. Researchers have said most Hunters would rather die than be deemed worthy to wield the exotic helmet due to the immense pain it inflicts on its host. They are not wrong. But it gave me a purpose. And that was something.

I remember the first minions of the darkness I slayed with the Celestial equipped. I was out of control and my light was maxed, but I refused to let the Nighthawk take control. I ran through the corridors of the Hive's dark chambers, begging for an escape as Thrall scratched at my heels and back. The blackness was strong yet I still managed to see. The orange rays escaping the helmet's eyes enkindle my surroundings and enabled clear vision, but in the process I could perceive as the skin underneath burned a toxic fire to forever scar. There was only one way to release the affliction, and so I would turn, pulled out the bird, and I shot at the line of enemies that trained themselves behind me. One bullet against the world. And then there was none.

Three birds with only three bullets, as the typical Golden Hunter would say, as I used to say.

And now?

Dozens with one, and a hell of a scar to prove it.

I remember first meeting him. A steadfast soldier of the light, an apprentice of the great Iron Lord Saladin, a good man and a good warrior, a friend to those who need one, a leader. An ideal being who every distracted woman dreamed to be with, but he already had his concentration on a different subject, some would even say he was married to his work as Commander. Who knew I would be the only Guardian to catch his eye as more than a skilled and strengthened soldier. What a wretched mistake.

Commander Zavala wasn't always as stringent and serious. There used to be days when all would witness a laugh exceed his lips and a smile to paint his features. There were days he would actually leave the vanguard hall and his post just so he could acquaint himself with other guardians on a personal level, to be a friend. But that was before The Black Garden and The Taken King, when the City lived in solitary with nothing but the scavenger Fallen to worry about and no wars to fight. When, just for a while, the world was bearable. It was before the SIVA Crisis. And it was before the Red War and the rise of the Red Legion. The world was a better place back then, and the people were much more kind and permissive.

I remember the first time we touched, the exhilaration of breaking the natural law of being a Guardian drove us on and for just a moment, even for just a moment, he faltered and ignored his responsibilities in order to enjoy himself and allow himself to love another person for once. To allow himself to live outside of his station. To be someone else.

Oh, what a wretched mistake.

And I remember the day I, myself, was exiled by the same man I fell in love with. I remember his face as he stated my sentence, no emotion and no care like he never before was by my side. He spat in my countenance as the Speaker once did to Osiris, shaming him and now me of acts that have a possibility of harming the city and disciplining me for breaking Guardian rule.

What a wretched mistake. And, what a wretched City.

The Celestial Nighthawk is hungry with no provisions to cure it. She sits with her coherent appetite for vengeance and awaits her day of return so she can set fire to those who committed offense and breached her walls.

The stars would speak to me sometimes—.

And sometimes, I would speak to them back.

Forever, Starlight will be my guide. No vacuum will contain me.

For I am the Celestial Nighthawk, and the darkness awaits my fury.

* * *

 **AUTHORS NOTE:**

Welcome to my first story, Celestial ! I've been a fan of Destiny since day one of the first beta, and having an active imagination and being a writer enables me to accumulate multiple story ideas and this is the first I'm actually writing out and publishing on a fanfiction site. This prologue is an incite of what will occur within this story

As a disclaimer, I, of course, do not own Destiny, all rights reserved to the creators.

 **Acknowledgements:**

\- This is a Commander Zavala x Awoken Hunter fanfiction.

\- There will be strong descriptions of violence, blood and gore, possibly triggering scenarios and topics discussed, graphic intimate encounters and intense profanity. If these things provoke you, do not hesitate to abandon this fanfiction. Rated M.

\- All lore included has been properly researched and confirmed, the only knowledge that is exaggerated and potentially false is that of the Celestial Nighthawk exotic helmet.

\- I will attempt to be persistent on updates but I do not have an in particular updated schedule like many do. This is a dramatic and lengthy story that takes a lot of contemplation and time to write. Be patient with the updates.

\- There will be grammar mistakes and such that requires attention and revisions, I'm sure. A complete edit will be done when the story is finished.

\- **I want your feedback**! Please actively inform me of what you think of the story, and what you you think I could improve at.

\- Nonetheless, enjoy Celestial!


	2. ONE

**Chapter One**

 **"SHE SHALL BREATHE AGAIN"**

* * *

The evening had set in tempestuous and cold. All warmth from before was extinguished from existence as darkness conquered light. Nearby Devil's retreated to seek shelter wherever they could find some, those loathsome Red Legion mercenaries chased them out of local City regions, all the way back to the European Dead Zone, but few scavengers still remain. The hive are no where to be seen either. I personally had half a mind to spend the evenfall perching myself upon a nearby ridge, observing as the fall of the Last City transpires miles before me rather than seeking refuge as well. My own eyes would witness as flames engulfed civilian homes and as their screams plagued the night that even I could perceive at such a lengthened distance. The only color visible was that of red and in response, I would do nothing.

I would sit. Watch. What was there for me to do? I am in exile. No longer a Guardian.

The bird had mourned when the attack first commenced, but that would only evolve into anger and a desire for vengeance, but there was nothing now. No more light. The exotic was forced to go mute and my body to weaken but I refused to falter. My typically heated frame had suddenly changed into a frigid winter and I shivered underneath my shredded clothing that not even your basic soldier would proclaim as armor. The hawk and stars above had gone silent and my mind was set free. Not even I could tell if I was relieved by the silenced whispers or traumatized.

So, my hands would extend, reach up, and, for the first time, remove the dead helmet from my head, turning the front towards my vision and witnessed as it crumbled within my hands until only the face of the bird remained. The Celestial existed off the Traveler's light, and now that said light was purloined from its grasp, the flesh of the exotic decomposed and only the mask skeleton remained.

For the first time in years, I felt the wind caress my albino, awoken flesh, and gallop through my, equally as white, medium length locks. Crystal blue eyes fluttered as my vision was genuine with no other mind controlling it.

For once, I was free; serene and pacified.

But my mind was still in mourning. Not for the city, but for the helmet and for my ghost, whose shell, of which had little light to begin with, laid dead beside my figure.

I was free, but I was officially alone. Such a combination resulted in nothing but low spirits and an astray conscience that led to imminent demise.

One can only imagine how many lives were lost today, lives that are currently being lost, and my mind unintentionally wandered to one specific life that had more than a significant place in my heart. I thought myself a fiend to paint a picture of his face in a time like this. After losing the bird and my best companion, my mind resorted to him and I was disgusted, but concern was evident. I wondered if he was alive, which in a situation like this seems unlikely, for he would never leave the city, not even now, not without being forced out. He would give his life for that wretched city.

He is the Great Commander Zavala. Fearless and persistent. And I hate him.

I've hated him since the day I first met him. A fool I was, before the rampage began, before the Celestial Nighthawk, a fool for loving the man I hated most.

* * *

 **FLASHBACK**

 **Three weeks after the Battle of Twilight Gap**

 **"THE LAST CITY RECOVERS"**

* * *

"I haven't seen the people of the Last City so distraught since Six Front's. We won this battle, we should be celebrating, not hesitating." My body leaned against the railing of the Tower Watch, watching as the primary walls were being repaired in the distance, housing for civilians is being added, and the Tower itself was being build up more so than it already is. Ghost stood by, listening and watching with me.

The atmosphere felt so forsaken, a majority of our guardians were lost to this battle and the ones that survived either are resting and recovering within their assigned Tower chamber, or are out patrolling to soothe their scandalized minds. Every Guardian has their own coping mechanisms. It is a very difficult time in the City right now. And so I sit, and anxious wait for new arrivals that the Traveler will awake. It must awake new Guardians. Now more than ever.

"They are distraught because this was the closest the Fallen have ever been to actually breaching and putting an end to the City. Ever since the walls were built. They fear what happens next."

Perceiving the sound of a spawn in, I abruptly turn around to see a new Exo Guardian, looking left to right, trying his hardest to take his surroundings in as his Ghost rambles, explaining the Tower, it's history, and over all his purpose as a Guardian. Eventually his mechanical light blue eyes landed on me, the only other Guardian around currently, and so I smiled and sent a nod in his direction where he replied with a nod as well in acknowledgement.

"Guardian, the Speaker requests your attendance. No elucidation given."

"Attendance to what?" I question, pushing my frame off the bars and began to walk towards the North Tower, of which was still under construction, leaving the new recruit to fend for himself in a nearly abandoned tower.

"This is the first time I'll be seeing the Speaker since his speech after the battle. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't anxious." Running a hand through my hair in attempt to make myself more presentable, I took a final left only to spot three figures standing together, conversing.

The Speaker opened his arms in greetings upon seeing me. "It is gratifying to see you active after such long days, Guardian. How have you been?" It's not often the warlock asks questions on a personal level. Typically, when he asks for your presence, he states his business and desire for meeting with you and moves on, no questions asked. So to see him in such a "good mood" broke my guard.

"I am well. I have been resting since the battle's conclusion, but intend to take up more bounties and patrols soon due to the current lack of... reinforcements." The atmosphere dropped when I stated that. A lot of lives were lost. More than even the Speaker would of imagined.

"I am pleased to hear you're in good health." I blinked in response, awaiting to acknowledge his reason for calling me. He saw this, so he went straight to the point after a brief pause. "You do know Lord Saladin, yes?" He gestured towards the very large, dark-skinned human Titan standing beside him, who I failed to scrutinize before.

"Of course," I looked at him up and down, "It is always an honor to be in the great Iron Lord Saladin Forge's presence," but I was more disappointed than honored, remembering the events at Twilight Gap.

"Yes," he stated in response after studying me as well, "you are the hunter who followed up Shaxx in his treasonous act against vanguard order of retreat in Twilight Gap." There was an obvious vibe of distrust between the two of us.

"Treason is a strong word, Saladin. That act won us the battle, whereas your word would of gotten everyone killed. Perhaps you have the two mixed up?"

"—I have decided to make Lord Saladin temporary Titan Vanguard and Vanguard Commander since Saint-14 has... unfortunately... disappeared," the Speaker cut in. My eyes darted over to him. "With you being among our most honorable Guardians, I thought you should be one of the first to know before a proper Tower announcement takes place."

With a heavy blink, I turned back to Saladin, "My apologies. You will make an excellent... temporary... Commander." With all the tension that has been getting swapped within the past few minutes, I have failed to recognize the third being standing within our circle, "Who is this?" I stated aloud, eyes turning to also scrutinize an almost-equally as tall and large Titan male, but this one was an awoken like myself. I was intrigued, for its not often I come across another awoken Guardian. His flesh glowed a luminous blue with eyes that closely matched to those of my own, and lacked any sign of hair.

"I am Zavala." So simple. And stern.

"Ah, the "other apprentice", so I hear from Shaxx. A veteran of Six Fronts and now Twilight Gap. How is it I am just now seeing your face at the Tower?" I was almost disappointed to be in front of these two, who are both typically seen as brave, and principled men; Granted, their intentions were genuine, they were trying to save lives, but if the city didn't push forward, humanity as we know it would be extinguished by the Fallen.

"How is it I am just now seeing yours?" He retorted. I frowned. I keep forgetting about my tendencies of remaining lone and separate. I suppose I just haven't learned the "social" and "necessity of having a Fireteam" part of being a hunter, as Brask states.

Snickering to lighten the mood, I made further conversation, "Shaxx is fond of you. Of you both."

"So you are quite acquainted with Shaxx? Astonishing, he has never appeared to be the "friendly" type."

"Oh, you're not wrong," I agreed immediately, "It is more of a tolerated companionship."

Shaxx was the first to greet me upon my arrival and recognition of the Speaker and his plan to construct a grand Last City with walls. A safe place for life on lights side. He was the first to show me kindness after I became a Guardian. Of course, his personality has changed since then, but throughout the years we remained friends, if you would call it that. Even now, he rants to me about bold plans of something he refers to as The Crucible, a competitive Guardian vs Guardian tournament where soldiers can safety practice and hone ones skills to prepare for upcoming missions and battles like Twilight Gap. A place to "earn oneself glory," as he puts it. Saladin despises the idea, feeling that if there were to be a Guardian vs Guardian activity, it's purpose should to be to teach teamwork rather than overall skill, therefore he is in process of creating an Iron Banner. Zavala, who of which is constantly by his masters side, acts like a puppy in submission and agrees with every decision the Iron Lord makes, that or he genuinely does have bad ideas as well. Twilight Gap proved such.

"Shaxx plays a dangerous game. I'd watch yourself with him if I were you," Zavala tried to advise.

"His ideas saved the city. The fact that you feel the need to shame him is despicable of you as it is!"

"Guardian," the Speaker finally interrupted, noticing my growing aggravation. What can I say? Hunters have always been easy to annoy.

I shifted my concentration to the warlock and apologized, out of respect, as did Zavala seconds later.

Saladin eventually added, "No matter the method, our victory has been made. It is a time not only for celebration, but also to mourn our fallen soldiers."

"That is also why I have requested you here, Guardian," recommenced the Speaker, "I request your aid in organizing a remembrance proceeding to honor our lost Guardians."

"Of course," furrowing my eyebrows in utter sympathy, I agreed to the assignment without hesitation. "I'll ask a clan member to help me with hereafter patrols that I've taken on for the next few days."

"Excellent," he nodded. No one has ever seen the Speaker's face. It's moments like this, moments of mass mourning, that I desire to see such a precious thing. Sometimes one's facial features and expressions mean the most. "Zavala volunteered to assist you."

I was content with my undertaking, until the warlock said that. So, of course, I immediately protested, "Speaker, shouldn't we have all available Guardians on standby to aid in recovering the Last City and completing missions and bounties? I assure you assistance is not necessary for this."

"I am not a fieldwork combatant when it is not required," Zavala informed, "I work with the Vanguard. It is my job to build up and defend the City within it's walls. Therefore when I heard the Speaker mention he was going to ask a certain Guardian of such a task, I volunteered. What better way to recover the city than to bring together it's civilians and Guardians to properly mourn our fallen warriors?"

He speaks so wisely. I bet his tears taste like poetry.

"Whatever you say, Commander Zavala," I mocked his determination upon giving him that title. Now is not a good time to be ridiculing. Especially within the presence of the Speaker and the actual (temporary) Commander. Immaturity happened to be another common Hunter characteristic. Bite me.

Everyone stared at me then without verbal response, so I immediately killed my childish smile, looked down and again apologized.

Ignoring what just happened, the Speaker continued to give details, "The proceeding shall take place within a week, I thank you both for doing this for our lost."

Upon acknowledging both mine and Zavala's nods, the warlock and Iron Lord departed further into the North Tower, leaving only me and the younger man.

"I guess i'll be seeing you around a lot more now, Greenhorn," I stated, pulling my cloak hood over my head, preparing to also leave.

"Greenhorn?" He laughed.

"You are an apprentice, yes?"

"Just because I possess the title of 'Student", does not mean I am unpracticed and ignorant, unlike others."

I dramatically snickered upon understanding his indirect insult. He knows how to comeback. "Me?" I laughed again. "Keep it up, Greenhorn, and we'll see who the "unpracticed" one truly is." That almost sounded like a threat. It was dumb, probably, threatening a practical Iron Lord. Even so, I proceeded with evident pride. Patting him on his chest armor, I turned to take my leave, but he stopped me momentarily with inquiry.

"Wait! I never got your name."

I stopped in my tracks and slowly turned with a mischievous smile upon recognizing his curiosity. "People call me Ren," I stated after a moments wait, then turning again to continue leaving. "I'll see you around. This is going to be fun."

* * *

It was a time of great sorrows. A time when you never went a moment without looking over your shoulder and hesitating another Darkness attempt on destroying what we had built.

It was a time of freedom. When I was blessed with solar power from the Traveler, and could painlessly wield my golden with passion, pride, and indisputable trust. When the bird slept.

And as I sit here and watch all pasts flare before my eyes, I perceive a growing rage, for the first time since I left the walls, not only for those who have done me wrong, but for all existence. Everything that stood in my path was an obstacle and needed to be cleared and put to rest.

The Nighthawk is dead but it lives.

In the dew.

In the stars.

In the colors of the sky.

And it will breathe again.

It will. It must.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 _Chapter One finally out. I've been anticipating and procrastinating this one for a few days now, but I think I wrote it to it's fullest potential. The first few chapters will be ultimately about Ren before she became the Celestial Nighthawk, so it might move slowly and will seemingly be incompatible to the title and the primary point of this story, but it will eventually tie in and prove its significance. Therefore, those who stay are in for quite a roller coaster ride!_

 _For clarification, all flashbacks will be marked with a border and typically a title of some sort within chapter, and a return to present will be marked with another border, but I'll try my best to label all transitions. To make your alls reading experience better._

 _Nonetheless._

 _I hope you guys enjoyed!_

 _Stay tuned for Chapter Two._


	3. TWO

**Chapter Two**

 **"YOU BECOME SOLAR"**

* * *

It is not every day you gain the opportunity to bond with another being in a world like this. In fact, it's never. Never do you _truly_ get to bond, to _truly_ fall in love, to _truly_ feel something other than pure adrenaline. Not unless it is with your fireteam, and those never last long. Not unless it is on a mission or strike with complete strangers that you will momentarily converse with and never see again once the objective is completed. Not unless it is a night at the bar, where you enjoy a few drinks and run away with a haphazard Guardian for a one night stand. As a guardian, it is considered selfish to focus on such sensations over The City and Traveler. It is not your job. And we all have jobs to do.

I just used the word "we". Guess I keep forgetting I'm not a Guardian anymore.

As evening converted to night, the screams and blasts from the Red Legion take over hushed, which was not a good sign. For so long, I despised the City, it's people, and overall morals. I would watch from a distance in my exile, in rage and in sadness, hating the place I once called home. Hating those who did me wrong and allowing the Nighthawk to conquer my mind, unleashing its fury onto me, and plotting the demise of those I once loved and called "friend".

But in this moment I failed to perceive my past. With my conscience free of the bird's rage and the manipulation of the stars above, I felt my legs move. Before my brain could even recognize what was occurring, I was moving, exploding through the air towards the walls and towards the Tower. My legs were weak from the loss of light, but my body pushed on, fighting the distance, feeling as the Nighthawks mask dangled against my thigh, for I attached it to the chain of my waist. Ghost was also attached. With all the pain the exotic has brought into my life, it has helped me fight back the darkness, aided me when my back was against the wall, saving me time and time again. With such a past, I'd consider it an old friend. And you don't leave friends behind.

Upon reaching the walls, I pulled out my pair of knives, a hunter's infamous weapon. Leaping up, I stabbed the knife through the rusted metal with all the force within me, then again with the other, grasping hold of the different bars, and pulling myself up the wall. One by one, ascending up until I did reach the top.

And I would pause, standing at the top of the walls I've avoided for years, staring at the tower that was attached to the very wall I stood on. Not even a mile away. I watched as I could now individually see Cabal bodies guarding and patrolling the fallen Tower, proving that humanity lost. The legion would fly through with airstrikes to penetrate the City, but other than that, it was silent. No gunfire, no screams. The atmosphere, the environment, even the air tasted like death.

And I had half a mind to proceed, staring down the wall to admire the height and then sliding down with said knife jabbed into it; sliding into the very place I was forbidden to come back to.

From a distance, the air was frigid to my lightless flesh, giving me the feeling of coldness for the first time since I've discovered my Gunslinger aptitudes. The Solar radiation engulfs you always. YOU. BECOME. SOLAR. But now that I was within the red-zone, it felt as if such light never left my body, the heat from the onward flames extinguished any hint of winter and even made me produce a sweat. All body reactions given that indirectly told me not to proceed were ignored, and I felt myself continue to sprint forward for a solid few minutes, body hugging the wall to avoid detection until I reached the bottom of the tower. Thus, where I slipped myself into an elevator of which surprisingly still worked. The building shook with the evident message of imminent collapse, the red warning lights within the elevator flashed as I arise to the "Traveler's Walk" area of the Tower. Upon successfully reaching the top, I immediately sprinted behind a nearby pillar. The opening of the elevator doors gained the attention of a pair of Legionaries, so when they walked towards it, and turned their backs to me, I swiftly made the move to quietly assassinate the two from behind using only my knives. After that, I turned and made my way towards the doorway that led to the Tower Watch, but it was blocked by debris. I approached the obstacle and used all my power to pull the shattered concrete out of place to create a doorway. And I would, pulling out a rock that made a hole of which was the perfect size for my frame and therefore I crawled through. What I saw after making it out, though, made me halt at a stand still, mouth gaping in absolute astonishment.

The Cabal had some type of device attached to the Traveler, draining it of it's life, therefore explaining the loss and Celestial's death. Countless Guardian bodies laid limp around the Watch. The Vaults have been destroyed to nothing but rubble. The Cryptarch's tent and Gunsmith's booth was crushed by debris, Eververse and Postmaster offices were demolished. Blood intoxicated the concrete. Ash vanquished the air and my senses, causing my eyebrows to furrow and eyes to water. It was a horror scene. No humanity in sight.

Eventually, my eyes would lurk to the ground and what I saw gave me a brief sense of hope.

Orbs of light, a pair, just lying there for anyone to take. So, I would immediately react, grabbing the shell of my ghost in one hand and in the other an Orb, bringing the two together, ultimately reviving my dead Ghost. Barely.

His lights would flicker, shell moving, before the light would eventually stay and the Ghost would weakly rise in the air. And make eye contact with me.

"Guardian..." It spoke softly as it struggled to stay in air. "Where... are w—" My eyes shifted away from my ghost, back to the Traveler, and his vision would follow mine, cutting his inquiry off upon seeing what had happened. "The Traveler..."

In that moment, nothing that had happened in the past mattered more than the Traveler and the state that it was in. I was literally built off the Traveler's light, so to see it conquered resulted in nothing but pure sadness and distress from me. No matter my strength, nothing can hide how this made me feel. It was as if I was a child discovering my deceased parent.

Ghost looked around at all the fallen Guardians, just as astonished as I was. Such mechanisms of light can not physically show emotion, but his silence said everything. "They're all... everything is... gone." He looked back to me, "How did you...?" Without a word, I again explained everything with my vision, looking to the ground at the last remaining Orb of light, the last one I might ever see. "The Orb of light... A guardian lives!" There was obvious excitement in his tone, no matter how hushed and weak it is. He flies closer to it, to use whatever light he received to analyze the mote. "It... belonged to a wielder of Void... a... Titan Defender... It belonged to..." Ghost suddenly looked up and back towards me, silence taking over our aura. I weakly looked back, awaiting him to finish. "It belonged to... Commander Zavala." My eyes would unintentionally widen upon hearing that. "Which means he's—"

"He is alive," I cut ghost off. A part of me was happy upon discovering this. Another, not so much. Not so much that my eyes would squint and fists to slightly clench, but that would end as Ghost spoke again.

"Guardian... take the last orb... It will heal your asthenia... You need it more than I do... After all, if you are to get in conflict... I can not resurrect you... You need your strength..."

Removing my cloak hood, I took one last glance at the Traveler, then back at ghost who looked at me in astonishment. I tilted my head in confusion.

"It's been a while since I have seen your face, but, Guardian, your..." He paused himself, so I would look to the ground at a nearby puddle to study my reflection. It has been years since I had the luxury of owning a mirror when I was an inhabitant of the tower. But that was 24 years ago. My eyes again widened upon seeing myself. I had aged and lost a lot of support in my exile. My face was sunken in, the light that typically emits from an awoken beings skin was nowhere to be seen. I lacked any nourishment required to be deemed healthy. The loss of light doesn't help anything either. But the one thing that caught my focus was my eyes. Burns and welted skin surrounded my orbitals, where the fury of the Celestial rubbed off on my flesh to forever scar. My age was beginning to show. I was no longer a juvenile fresh from first resurrection, but a veteran that has lived through it all and deserved a place in the Vanguard Hall. A Vanguard that most likely no longer exists.

"For so long," I began to speak, my body falling to the knees as I stared at the remaining mote, "I have waited for something like this to happen... for the City and its people to get what they deserve for casting me out... but now..." Something else caught my eye then, shreds of a pale cloth that I would reach towards and pick up within my grasp, shreds of Zavala's Titan mark that I somehow still knew too well. I studied it, caressed it, and frowned. "But now I feel nothing but despondency and forlornness for this place." I looked back up at Ghost. "The anger remains, but with the Celestial gone, my mind has been set free and I realize now the vengeance I have for the people is nothing but child's play. This was my home once. No matter if that was taken from me."

"So, what are you going to do?" Ghost questioned. I looked back to the ground.

Dropping the cloth, my hand reached to grasp hold of the orb of light, standing afterwards and studying it. "Can't be exiled from a City that has fallen." Bringing the orb to make contact with my chest, I felt as my body shivered but eventually strengthened upon recognizing the anecdote. My weakened legs were healed, porcelain light returned to my flesh and my fatigue was cured. But that was it. Just a brief healing. That is all a mere orb can do. Afterwards, I stood up straight, again pulling my hood over my head, grasping my knife in hand, and turning towards ghost.

" _It's time I come home_."

* * *

"You've chose to isolate yourself and avoid others for quite some time now, Ren. Perhaps it's time you come home."

My body leaned against the Tower balcony, a favorite hidden spot of mine on the Watch located to the right of the doorway that led to the Hanger. My light cerulean eyes surveyed the flying by ships, civilians and construction workers on the ground carrying out their business to rebuild the City. It was dark now. Late. A time where most Guardians and proletarians settle down for slumber. But not me. I was a voyager of the night, seeking silence and art across the galaxy when minions of the darkness did not stand in my way. A sightseer. A searcher. I had the curse of an active curiosity and imagination that drove me to seek adventure no matter where it may be. But occasionally there is a blockade in my search for peace. And that blockade now was that of a voice that belonged to the one person I wished not to encounter.

"Home is where a story begins," I exhaled as I responded to the interruption, turning around to notice Lord Zavala standing in the "doorway" of my secret spot. "Sometimes you have to run away to advance its plot."

"Are you insinuating that you are running? From what exactly?"

I was quick to cut him off. "Why so inquisitive, Greenhorn? Don't you have a Remembrance Proceeding to plan?"

He closed his eyes momentarily and sighed. I could sense a hidden eye roll there for a second. " _We_ do, indeed." I blinked at him and shifted my concentration back forward, but he was persistent and approached to also lean on the railing beside me, staring out at the city as well. "Beautiful, is it not?"

My eyes looked over at him for a moment, watching at he gazed at the city with such passion and admiration, slowly then shifting my concentration back forward. "Yes, it is..."

A long silence passed through us until eventually he looked over towards me. "You have such a strange complexion," He scrutinized, I looked over at him unusually, "An albino awoken... I've never seen anything like it." He noticed the way I was looking at him and he expressed his regret. "My apologizes, you are just very intriguing."

All my life I had been looked at differently for who I was, and just as my kind became more common and were accepted into humanity, my own begins to see me different as well. I am aware my flesh is different from that of your average awoken. Most have blue, pink or other bright colored complexions, while mine harnessed that of nothing. No color, but only white with hair that closely matched. One would look at me and tell me I resembled an Albinism human without the pink eyes. My eyes had to be the only normal physical characteristic about me.

I ignored his statements of which I didn't know whether to perceive as insults or compliments, "What do you want?" I questioned bluntly soon after. "I had my Ghost send yours a notification that we shall begin tomorrow, so please enthuse me on why you are here making irrelevant small talk with me?"

He sighed at my stubbornness. "I was retreating to my chambers when I caught eye of you here. With both of our insomnia getting the best of us, I thought I would come to converse with you momentarily, seeing as how we will be seeing each other a lot more often from now own."

"From now on?" I snickered. "I'll give it a few days. After the ceremony has concluded, I will be departing the Tower for a few weeks, maybe even months, to catch up on bounties."

"But you do not have to."

I almost glared at him then, "But I _do_." It's almost as if he doesn't acknowledge the shortage of guardians as of right now. I understand the friendly gesture he was trying to put off. Shaxx always speaks to me in annoyance about his peer Zavala, how nice he is and how annoying such cordiality can be. I now comprehend where he is coming from.

The air between us again went mute as my eyes trailed to the stars above. A sky full of them, as if the god's painted such a canvas just to catch our eyes in that moment. Zavala followed my eyes.

And we just stood there. For more than a few minutes, with nothing but the stars and eachother to keep us company.

My eyes unlocked to the stars, and I made such eye contact with them that shivers would rove up my frame. For a moment, it was almost as if they were speaking to me—, they had to of been; The celestial's were calling to me, shedding their hope on my mind, but I was already too frail, and too vanquished, that my sorrow would act as a shield, and bounced that promise right off me. I looked away, surprised to see the Iron Lord apprentice still standing beside me. My eyes met his, as if he was looking at me before. I looked forward again, and then down in woe. "I am drawn to them." I never knew why I said that to him. My guard was abandoned there and expressing such vehemence was a sign of weakness. The strong prey on the weak. And that's what I was in that moment, prey, weak. I spoke proudly when it came to Twilight Gap, put up a facade of a brave soldier, but if I was being honest, I was afraid and anxious. My mind was made of glass with too many cracks. One more hit and I would disintegrate. Perhaps it is why I've been clinging to humanity and the Tower ever since the battle's conclusion. You never see Hunter's at the Tower, not unless they are obtaining bounties, chatting up with Brask, the Hunter Vanguard, or are returning engrams to the Cryptarch. And then after they are done, they immediately return to the battlefield. That's how I was. But Twilight Gap left a scar on my mind, I'd be lying if I said it didn't. It's why I accepted the opportunity to plan the ceremony, so I could have more time at the Tower. It's why I was so afraid to go back out there. But I was a Guardian. It was my job.

I don't get to be afraid. I don't get to show weakness, so when I said such a statement and let my guard break, I felt nothing but absolute hatred towards myself. Common people and children look at Guardians with such admiration, but words can not express much I look at them with that same envy. It is hard being a Guardian. You live a life of war, no emotion allowed, no being able to fall in love, no having a family. You don't get a normal life, at least as normal as it can get in such a world.

And it made me angry. But I couldn't rant about it, not to Zavala, not to Shaxx, not even my teacher Brask, who I legitimately considered a good friend. As I said, it expressed weakness. And the weak are looked down upon.

I was Ren, the infamous Gunslinger veteran of Six Fronts and now Twilight Gap. I'll keep up the act for as long as I live.

"I was revived not long before the Collapse," Suddenly Zavala spoke, causing my head to abruptly shift to him, honestly surprised he as well put down his guard. Look at that. The great Lord Zavala, showing weakness. I suppose that makes us more alike than I'd wish to admit. He, though, continued to stare into the sky like this didn't bother him. "There were moments in my initial solitude where I suspected I was the only living entity of humanity. Just my Ghost and I against the world." My eyes never left his. "Upon arriving to the Last City — well, it was not much of a "city" then, meager tents and houses; a sanctuary for survivors and Guardians before the walls, I'm sure you remember." He paused, finally meeting my eyes, even a minuscule smile was on his face. I nodded, the pictures coming back to me. "Upon arriving, I was in awe and my quantity of hope augmented as high as the walls we now perch on." His vision again bounced forward to scan the city and all the movement taking place. So much emotion was being shown, I was astonished, and envious. "The Speaker, he spoke of a secure oasis, of walls that would reach the sky beneath the Traveler's providence... I would dream of such a thing... I would behold into space as we presently are at stars like these... The atmosphere is always so thronged and the celestial's behind are always so hidden by veils of unlit clouds that moments like this become precious. It is as if the Traveler creates moments such as this to remind us it isn't the end." He spoke with so much wisdom and poetry, and somehow I understood every little thing that was coming out of his mouth. "All those years ago, I was you, staring at these same stars in search of reassurance; Not even a week later, a plan was assembled and we initiated construction of the walls. I suppose that teaches us to not take life for granted."

I finally looked away from him to follow the walls as he concluded. The more I contemplated, the more I realize how alike the two of us are. We have only first met today, but it's as if I knew him a lifetime. Never have I related to someone as much as I do now. "It feels like so long ago." I said eventually. And he wouldn't respond, but in my heart I knew he agreed. Eyes forward, bodies against railing, hearts and minds attached.

We would spend the night like that. No more talking, but it wasn't silent, not by any means. Our love for the City and the Earth rambled on for hours, through gaze and admiration. And when it finally reached morning, we would depart from our spot, and I would retreat to my Tower chambers, where I would bed down and, for once, get a full night's rest. With a reassured mind, all tension was set free, and I could sleep without fear of nightmare.

This morning, I met Zavala with a mindset of hatred and indignation. Tonight, I rest, with his words of solace at peace with my mind, along with the knowledge of a new companion.

* * *

 **AUTHORS NOTE:**

 _I adore the idea of switching back and forth from past and present, gives the reader two different scenarios to contemplate, but I also hope it doesn't get too confusing. For the most part it is relatively common sense with the borders, as well as the tone and mood of the writing and speaking. After all, this is all in Ren's point of view, though there will be occasions where I might change said point of view, I will always clarify when this happens. Borders may also be a transition into the next day, but remains in the past/present situation, but I also will clarify these things._

 _As for chapter two, I'm excited about this one. This time, it is more intense in the present time, while in the past Zavala and Ren begin to bond. Won't be as easy as expressed in this Chapter, especially when the Nighthawk comes into the picture. You guys are in for a ride!_

 _I hope you enjoyed!_

 _Stay tuned for Chapter Three._


	4. THREE

**Chapter Three**

 **"THE LAST DANCE"**

* * *

I would tell myself every hour of every day for the first few months of my exile that I would find a way to come back home. I was angry, that was conspicuous, but as soon as everyone you know and love gives up on you and as soon as you are alone for so long, that shit gets to you. No Hunter in this galaxy is capable of dealing with such intense vehemence. No amount of void in a Nightstalker's divesting essential being can make an analogy with the feeling of absolute, intolerable forsakenness. Wielding the void element as a hunter is almost as physically and mentally disastrous as that of a Celestial Nighthawk Gunslinger. Almost. I would persistently receive the story by Andal Brask himself, Nightstalker and past Hunter Vanguard. My teacher. My best friend.

I would go to him in my beginning stages of officially accepting the Nighthawk exotic for comfort and advice. My personality was in the process of being completely altered and my body was getting used to the increased light. I was wild. Brask managed to calm me by telling me his own stories. Opened up to me, to condolence me, not as an authority figure, but as a friend. Told me how he lacked slumber and was beginning to lose feeling in various parts of his body due to the mass amounts of void in his frame. He told me the only thing he felt anymore was nothing but pure numbness.

"It is why there are not a lot of Nightstalker's in the field," he had stated, "To become an Orion of the void, you have to be chosen by the element itself, much like how the Nighthawk chose you. We have lost a lot of Hunter Guardians who have tried to wield the void but were not strong enough to take on the burden and corresponding power."

I do not know how our little talks would aid in making me feel better about my situation. It was not because I was witnessing another Guardian in pain, but more the fact that I knew wasn't alone in this. Brask was the only one who was there for me during my transition, besides...

Just thinking of his name brought my current situation back to reality.

No matter how much I initially desired to come back here, I couldn't believe the concrete I was walking on as I sneaked through the different buildings of the city, occasionally turning around to view the tower I was previously sight seeing on. A nearby scream convinced me to descend back into the city. If the Celestial were to be alive, it would persuade me in leaving the walls and the City, going back to the same ledge I once sat on as I witnessed the fall. But, since I was now acting on my own will, I refused to leave any acknowledged civilian in danger to die in the grasps of the Red Legion. I might be a "traitor", but I'm no monster. Not anymore at least. Not now.

My pace was brisk yet inaudible, my dark cloak and clothing blended in with the shadows and ash, following the trails of the cries of help, pulling powerless and innocent civilians out from under debris, assuring those who were hidden to come with me. "I'll get you out of here," I said to them all, "Follow my Ghost." I received countless embraces, praises and statements of gratitude. It brought me back to Six Fronts, how I was rushing through the camps to get civilians out and to safety, viewing as their faces were covered in grime and tears, expressions horrified. How hands would reach out for mine.

I watched people die before due to my inability to save them. Such a sight and experience is something that never leaves your memory. I had to abandon people before because, due to their situation, they were impossible to rescue and I was compelled to move on to find others that I could save. I remember walking away from those I had to leave behind, hearing as they screamed my title at the top of their lungs, begging for help that I could not provide for them. It is one of the hardest things I had to do as a Guardian. Such a thing eats away at you. It still does to me. Especially now as I roam the streets, avoiding Cabal sights, in search of remaining humanity.

And I would come across something startling during my mission. A woman whose lower body was crushed by a building but her upper body was free and alive and she was holding a baby. An innocent child who wept no matter the painful embrace it was receiving from it's dying mother. My perception followed the noise and as I approached the woman, she didn't ask for help, she didn't scream. She just gazed up at me with a pained smile with pleading eyes, holding her child up of which was wrapped in a dirtied blanket for me to take. No words spoken. But I knew exactly what she wanted me to do.

In that moment, I ignored the fact that I was still technically exiled.

In that moment, I was a Guardian.

So, my hands would reach down to grasp hold of the whimpering child, watching as the mother silently cried, eventually laying her head on the ground. She passed away right before my eyes. As soon as she knew her child was safe.

I never held a baby before, so to do so now in this environment was staggering. The maternal woman side of me took over then, the side that always wanted a family, bringing the child to my chest as I proceeded onward to officially flee the city upon recognizing the sun beginning to come up. As my pace quickened and my body began to bounce in response to my expeditious movement, the child perceived and began to weep. To muffle it's cries, I softly brought it's head to the crook of my neck. Surprisingly, I caught sight of the exit, and made my way through. Exiting through a breach in the wall, I rallied with my Ghost, who gathered all the civilians I managed to pull out. What I witnessed was beautiful.

I saw relieved grins, people embracing each other. I saw tears then, but not tears of despondency, but tears of joy, of hope, of aspiration. And as soon as they caught sight of me, they all stood, reaching out to me, and touching me as I walked through the group of probably about two dozen people. They looked up at me like I was hero, a real Guardian. My cloak continuing to cast a shadow upon my features to conceal my identity, I held the child close to my frame.

"Listen up!" All chatter halted immediately, eyes pasted upon me as I walked up a brief hill to gain high ground. They all gazed at me then, eyes pleading with a desire of knowing what comes next. I paused, hesitating.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't traumatized and scared. And what Ghost says next for only my ears to hear didn't help either, "There was an emergency broadcast hours ago, rendezvous coordinates, a planet evacuation. We're on our own now." After that, I looked back at the group of civilians who stared at me with such hope. And there was no where we could go.

"I know this is all very terrorizing for you all," and so, I just spoke, saying anything I could to assure these people I would get them to safety. I was nervous. Not only because of the situation, but because it has been years since I have last communicated with another person. It was so strange. But I had to be brave. For myself, for them, and for this innocent child in my arms. "But I came back. For all of you. And I assure you, I will do anything in my power to get you to safety." I looked up then, finally making the move to lower my hood from my head. I knew that none of them could possibly know who I was, but I also knew revealing myself would aid in gaining their trust. And trust is the most important bond in the universe.

Some appeared shocked at my appearance, as some always are. "The light may be gone, and the Traveler may be silenced for now," I proceeded. "But that determination and that resistance remains. In all of us." The Earth shook briefly due to a nearby by explosion, bringing us all back into reality. "We are not safe here," I announced, descending from the boulder and raising my hand to signal everyone to follow, "Let's move out!"

I watched as everyone grabbed hands, and embraced each other as they walked forward and away from the city, following me. Helping each other walk and whispering silent assurances in each others ears.

This is what it means to be a Guardian. Saving lives. Bringing people together. Caring. Loving. Bonding and forming relationships.

Not traveling across the galaxy battling forces of the darkness when we have no business being there in the first place. Not putting a bullet through the skull of every being we see that isn't humanity.

If that's the case, how are we any better than the enemy?

What I witnessed today was family. True love, for a city, and a people, even if not related by blood. And I learned something.

The Last City is not a place. It's not bricks and metal. It's not an overseeing Tower compacted with soldiers. No. Not at all.

The Last City, it's a people. It's the beings you love. It doesn't matter where you're at, as long as you have them, you're home.

Words can not express how good that makes me feel, for I'm home.

* * *

 **FLASHBACK**

 **17 hours until the Twilight Gap Remembrance Proceeding**

 **"THE LAST CITY REMEMBERS"**

* * *

I am not a resurrected Guardian. I had a mother, a father, and probably some siblings I wasn't able to grow up with. A human family. One can only imagine being born awoken, especially an abnormal one, it was thought to be impossible. "Awoken are converted, not born." But it happened. And I am here.

I was one of the rare ones. A child of darkness and light. Skin and hair as porcelain as snow, faded pink lips, eyes as blue as sapphire. Different. And people don't like different, even after the Collapse when you need all the humanity you can get. A rare one, but so rare that I became unwanted.

Though, I do not remember the day I was born, it does not help that the first memory I have is waking up to an empty house and overall evacuated village, abandoned, leaving me to fend for myself at a young age, traveling from village to village, leaving quickly due to the Fallen raiding our camps. I never experienced a hint of passion or acceptance, until I found Ghost, or, until he found me.

"The Traveler created Ghosts to seek out and resurrect Guardians to fight against the darkness," he said to me upon our meeting, "Never had I heard of an alive Guardian being chosen. I suppose you specifically were made and selected by the Traveler." Such a thing made more sense than anything that has ever occurred to me, convincing myself that I was a child of the Traveler, not of the humans that betrayed me. So, I proceeded, with Ghost by my side, adapting my body to become a Hunter, accepting the Solar element and becoming a Gunslinger, a rather skilled one at that.

Never had I thought this is where I'd be.

My eyes unlocked, and there stood an abandoned Tower Watch. Such solitary was a feeling I was beginning to grow used to. If one wanted to break their ice and converse with others, it was the Tower you wanted to go to, a social space. Guardians spotted everywhere, dancing, singing, goofing off behind the Vanguard's back. Everywhere you looked, there was a new friendly face. But now, empty.

Nothing was the same. Not after Twilight.

After a long week of constantly dealing with a certain forthcoming "Greenhorn," our work on the proceeding actually paid off.

"The ceremony is tomorrow." Speak of the Devil. My head shifted to the left, viewing as Lord Zavala approaches, coming from Tower North, as the rest of my body leaned against the railing, back turned to the city. "You seem apprehensive." I blinked at him, and returned my gaze back forward without response.

Banners hung, flowers of all shapes, sizes, and colors aligned the Watch, lights attached to all the railings, petals painting the concrete. The Tower was lit up like a Christmas tree. It was beautiful, truly, but saddening all the same.

I pushed myself off the railing and walked forward, and away from Zavala, all the way up to the entrance of the Traveler's Walk. The Iron Lord followed, despite my obvious lack of wanting company, particularly his company.

It wasn't anything personal. I was born to be a lone wolf, that fact was made clear very quickly when I was nothing but a mere child. Zavala is cordial and has an acute desire to interact and socialize with everyone he comes into contact with.

That wasn't a bad thing.

In fact, I envied his passion to know and speak, such characteristics are building blocks to becoming a grand leader, and it was obvious that Zavala is an impending administrator of the city. Such a thing is intimidating, yes, but his relentless hanging around was beginning to get on my nerves, the nerves that desired solitary at least. I was a different kind of fish that exists in this tank we call humanity, and Zavala was an Angel that doesn't understand the phrase "personal space".

I knew there would be no way to shake the man off unless I held the conversation he desired to have, so I complied and went along with him, slowing my pace between the gardens to allow him to approach my side. At such a high elevation and a lack of local vegetation, thus, life, the night was unbearably quiet, only the wind to serenade us as I convinced myself to uphold the conversation.

"The Speaker asked me to give a speech tomorrow during the ceremony," I admitted with a slightly hesitant voice. I avoided eye contact as Zavala looked over to me.

"Will you?"

I stopped at the end of the pathway, turned towards him and crossed my arms, but held my gaze on the decorations of the Tower, studying the bright lights that cast intimate shadows upon the two of us. "I don't think so."

There was a brief pause before the Iron Lord responded. "I just returned from convening with the Speaker myself," he said, "He asks the same from me." I was not surprised when he said that. Like I said, he is a natural leader, who would be more suitable to give a speech on such an occasion? "I think you should reconsider—"

"What am I supposed to say to everyone, Zavala?" My eyes finally met his, revealing the fear I truly felt in that moment. I freaked out, snapped. Silly me. "The people, our Guardians — they want authenticity, not bullshit. They want the truth, and you know what that truth is?"

Zavala went silent, not expecting my sudden outburst and release of anxiety. His eyes bore into my own, holding my gaze to the highest degree, and all I was able to perceive out of them was pure solicitude.

"The truth is that no Guardian should have died that day." I could feel a wetness begin to grow in my eyes. A wetness that expressed pure emotion, a pure lack of guard, pure weakness. I was weak. In that moment, I was weak. "No lives should have been sacrificed." And yet I proceeded on, as if to acknowledge something I didn't, something I couldn't. "No one should have died in a battle that never should have happened in the first place."

He suddenly cut in, "Twilight Gap was not our fault or intention—"

"Wasn't it?" I could perceive as my voice began to crack and falter. I scoffed at myself. It was embarrassing to express such weakness in front of him, in front of anyone in general, but a part of me was rather comfortable with acting like this in front of Zavala. The Traveler knows that I would be seen like this with anyone else. I would have sucked it up. What's so special about him?

"You know, I can't sleep anymore. I never truly slept well before, but now, I can't even shut my eyes without that entire day being set on replay." I remember every detail of Twilight Gap. I remember the fallen, their reinforced armor and the red of their banners. That's right, the Red. I've never seen so much red in my life. Red armor, red blood painting the ground like it's a canvas, over all warriors, over me. "No matter how many times I bathe, I still feel their blood on me, on my hands and face!" The blood of other guardians as I tried to save their lives, as I tried to revive and give them some of my light but it was just too late. Too late for hundreds of us. Too many. My voice began to rise slightly in anger and sorrow. In grief. "We are sent out into the galaxy with a single purpose, to fight back darkness. We wave our weapons and light around in the air like we own it, killing enemies one by one without a single care and think to ourselves that what we are doing is the right thing. What we don't think about is how our actions towards them will not be ignored; we don't think about how they can and will respond to our comportment." I was upset. And I was enraged. But I was not demented. I was not crazy.

"What are you saying?" Zavala soon inquires with a concerned look on his awoken features.

I gulped, licking my lips in anxiety.

"I'm saying..." my voice again lowered, nothing but regret being shown on my features. "... We established the Battle of Twilight Gap. And all those lives lost... their blood is on our hands. My hands." I paused, while the Iron Lord looked absolutely dumbfounded at the words I was speaking. I pointed at him next, "... And yours."

After that, I gazed in those shimmering blue eyes of his that closely matched mine. For just a moment, soon making the move to step back and turn my heels with the intention to depart, but my wrist was suddenly grabbed, making me spin around to face him.

"Ren—"

But I didn't allow him to speak. With all my might, I tried to produce a glare, but my woe got the best of me, making it physically impossible to make such a face. My features only revealed sadness. Swiftly, I yanked my arm away, immediately retreating out of the Travelers Walk and to my personal Tower chambers, leaving Zavala alone and dazed.

I didn't see him again until the next day. I remember disrobing and laying in bed, but never once did I close my eyes. Many guardians just cry themselves to sleep, but I just cry, coating my pale cheeks in a dishonorable liquid. Nothing would ever be the same. And forever would I be weak.

For so long, solitary was there for me when I needed comfort, but in times like this, it was that same solitary that made me feel worse.

Lately, I've felt the best when I was in the presence of other humanity, when I was with Zavala planning for this event. It was a genuine distraction to the lamentations and vexations that remained to conquer my judgment, but as soon as departure is made, I'm back in this pit of anguish.

Last night, I left things strained between us, so we avoided each other until the initiation of the ceremony. Or at least, I avoided him.

Before I knew it, I was standing in front of my body mirror, glaring at myself, heart beating a mile with each minute that passed by. The proceeding I have worked so hard to organize was taking place in 30 minutes. My eyes met my own before further scrutinizing. My white hair was left down and light makeup outlined my eyes. I was in a black, skin tight dress that lacked fabric on the arms, exposed my entire back, and had a slit on the left leg, length falling to the floor. The ceremony was made with a theme of formality, which was definitely a different style, for you never see a Guardian out of their gear. It was more of a civilian thing, wearing these tedious, fancy, wardrobes. I felt exposed, naked, and I was judging myself. I've never been one with an exceedingly low-self esteem, worrying about my looks or anything, those things weren't important, but I also can't say I adore who I am. I have done some things. Terrible things I am not proud of.

But as I stand here in this dress, I can't help but feel tears form in my eyes. And honestly, I can not identify the reasoning. Maybe it was because of the atmosphere. Or maybe, it was is because I'm about to attend a funeral. It wasn't that, really. It is both a celebration and a mourning, but all my mind is focused on is the death, of the blood I can still see painted on my scrubbed-clean bare hands and arms.

I hated looking at myself.

All I saw was red in the areas of exposed skin, and there was a lot of it, red that didn't belong to me. It made me want to rip this dress off, shredding it, ignoring the amount of glimmer I spent on it, and cover myself in clothing from head to toe. It made me want to leave the tower, to return to my typical lonely, and patrol vanguard territory across the universe.

Maybe I was crazy. Who knew.

I can't tell you how long I stood there. I remained until my ghost approached from thin air, giving me a five-minute warning. With that, I abruptly made the decision to grab my hunter cloak, buttoning it around my neck and ascending the hood. It was a faded black hue with multiple tears. For so long, Brask has been on me about considering to get a new one or at least repair it, but that cloak tells a story. It tells my story, and my story is all I have. I'll wear that cloak until I die.

Quite frankly, I looked dumb, wearing an exquisite dress with a worn cloak, but the security of it made me feel, well, secure.

Slipping on my flats, I made my exit.

And I was late, for when I exited the Guardian chambers and descended down the stairs to the Watch, I viewed and listened as the Speaker gave his speech. He and the vanguards, including Zavala remained in their armor due to their positions, while everyone else dressed nicely, some holding glasses in their hands. It was still odd seeing everyone out of uniform, but reasonable for such an occasion. The few soldiers who just returned to the Tower remained in their gear. An orchestra sat above the stairs that led to the Vanguard Hall and below the line of leaders, Speaker in the middle.

"—Tonight, we celebrate a victory, but also mourn the lives we lost in this battle. For if it wasn't for them, the Last City would have taken it's last breath and fell victim to the darkness. Our enemy is persistent and the cost of defending the Traveler and Humanity is high, but us, as a people, and as a family, have something far more valuable than persistence... We have honor, and we have each other...—"

His speech faded in the back of my mind, unable to hear his further words. All eyes were glued to him, but the one person I could only gaze at was Zavala, remembering the events of last night, how unguarded I was, and how astonished I left him. It wasn't long until I was full out staring, scrutinizing him.

I have spent a lot of time with Zavala over the last week. It wasn't long, but felt like an eternity, for every waking moment I was with him.

I absolutely hated it. Never did I get alone-time.

But I'd be lying if I said it didn't help me, how his voice would naturally make my tense frame relax, and until I was left alone with my thoughts at night, never did the memories of Twilight Gap make me falter when I was with him.

In those moments, I was okay.

My eyes found his body, how he stood with pride, shoulders back, spine straight, hands clasped behind him. My vision ascended to the dark blue tattoo on his neck. I couldn't tell what it was, for half of it was cut off. From there, his skin. How it beautifully glowed in a luminescent blue-grey, watching as the light swirled in his cheeks and hairless head, making him gleam. His lips, how soft they appeared, stern, and merely a shade darker than that of his flesh. And when my vision rose to analyze those truly prepossessing, corresponding eyes of his, I found that they were staring right back at me. In shock, my eyes unintentionally widened upon being caught in the act, but didn't shy away, not immediately. No. I stared back, or he did at least, since I was first. His eyebrows furrowed, orbitals having the most wholesome look to them as I feasted on his beauty.

I was mesmerized.

I was charmed by him.

His appearance and annoyingly compassionate personality combined.

I felt my heart beat quicken and my eyes finally retreated.

Was I nervous? Or embarrassed?

It was then that the Speaker finally concluded. Claps resonated throughout the air as Zavala was gestured to the middle to give his speech, but I didn't stick around to hear it. I found my legs moving. Relentlessly, expeditiously, falling back to hide in the hanger. I could feel his eyes on me as my arms hugged my sides. Disappearing into the dark corridor. For some reason, I felt myself growing emotion, but a large groan from sweeper-bot as I strolled last him somehow brought reality back to me and I returned to my expressionless facade. My pace didn't falter, for I quickly approached an NPC. Amanda was at the ceremony, so I had to deal with what I had.

"Requesting withdrawal," I stated bluntly. I watched as the NPC raised his head to me.

"Request denied."

"What!" My voice rose. "Why?"

"Vanguard ordered all ships remain docked during ceremony, guardian." It's lack of emotion aggravated me.

"Bring my ship forth immediately, class Valkyrie-O5X, or I'll make sure you remain docked for the rest of your pathetic life," I didn't hesitate to threaten, poorly choosing my words to such an ally, and making the robot cower. It was a relieving that these things were built with some intelligence.

"My apologies, Guardian, request confirmed." With that, the NPC bot slowly ambled to take hold of its tablet, while I moved to lean against the railing, awaiting for my ship to arrive.

I could hear Zavala in the background, the echo of his voice, but the words were muffled.

I made a promise to remain for the ceremony, see it out and participate and socialize, but as soon as fresh air hit my flesh and I viewed the scene, I couldn't help but feel a growing suffocation form. It was a suffocation that begged me to leave and seek solitude. I would die if I remained in such a crowd. All that getting ready before hand was useless, since I only ended up here, not even participating in the feast or dance that I planned.

After many minutes, the speaking came to a stop, his voice disappearing from my perception, and the sound of music entering, originating from the recreation orchestra hired for this event. Soothing, classical music that couldn't even calm my mind.

Upon hearing and seeing the arrival of my ship, I leapt off the balcony and approached. My ghost suddenly appeared in front of me.

"Are you not going to say goodbye?"

"To whom that cares?" I quickly retorted, scoffing and almost glaring at him.

"The Speaker? Vanguard Brask? You haven't spoken to him in a few days, his ghost contacted me. He is worried about you... About how you are doing..."

"I am fine!" The statement came off harsher than intended. It wasn't truly believable either. Looking down, I saw that my hands were transitioned to greatly clenched fists. With an exhale, I released them, but they proceeded to shake rapidly with anxiety. "Why does everyone keep asking that?"

"You are not alone in this, Ren. Every guardian at that ceremony is mourning and struggling with the memories of that battle."

His statement hushed me, head remaining downward. My eyes closed in attempt to relax my trembling frame, but such an action proved to be pointless. Perceiving a sudden heatwave from my solar light that radiated through me, my hands rose to unclasp my cloak and remove it from my back, exposing it and the rest of my skin to the wind so I could try to cool off. My energy rose, therefore did my light. The need to release those three bullets penetrated my conscience and become stronger with every second. I never responded. Ghost refused to hush, though.

"What about Lord Zavala?"

With that, my eyes and head rose to meet that of my ghost. His blue little light blinked, before looking behind me, appearing to have spotted something, but I paid no attention to this, not until a voice that did not belong to ghost met my hearing.

"Leaving so soon? This ceremony is our astounding doing and you're not even going to dance?"

My eyes closed, body somehow relaxing to his voice. And so, I turned to face him with courage in my eyes, only to meet the genuinity of his own. I softened briefly before returning solumn. "Dancing is for children," I said without emotion to back it up, "We are soldiers at war, not juveniles in play."

And even with my response that expressed my annoyance at his approach, he proceeded to ignore the hint, as he always does, and held out a hand for me to take. The music resonating from the Watch was not bold, but it was present, making such a proposition reasonable, but it remained unappealing to me. Yet, I paused. I hesitated.

I didn't take it, only verbally responding. "I told you I'd give it a few days. Those days have passed and the ceremony is over—"

He cut me off with a smile on his face, "—It is not over until the fireworks are hushed and the last dance goes silent—"

"Will you stop doing that?"

He merely laughed, "Stop doing what, precisely?"

"Stop—... Stop smiling like that and speaking so—... so wisely to everyone you come into contact with. It's—It's exasperating!" I felt so much anger scuttling through me, my fists clenching again, but the fact that I stammered made me become more embarrassed. I could feel my cheeks burn a deep purple. I felt so out-of-character.

I left him in such a negative manner last night, yet he approaches and speaks to me with so much benevolence, as if I never insulted him, or us as guardians.

Even following my embarrassing request, his arm remained out for the taking, smile never fading from his lips.

We shared a silence. My eyes glaring daggers at his hand, his gazing subtly at my face.

"Ren."

But his voice did eventually cut that said silence off. His persistence was quite aggravating. Yet, with him stating my name so softly, my shoulders fell and so did my clasped digits. My eyebrows furrowed as my true sorrow finally showed.

"Look at me."

And I did, eyes weakly meeting his. His smile had fallen with the silence, but his eyes held hope and promise.

"Dance with me."

Momentarily, I just stared into his beautiful, glowing blue eyes that perfectly matched my own, taking it in now since I could not earlier. The color of the sky on a cloudless summer day. I saw an ocean I desperately desired to swim in, curtained between thick layers of lashes. Skin meant for touching.

Never did I see Zavala like this until now. Never was I so charmed. Not until I realized how comfortable he made me, not until I saw him previously shadowed in the intimate lights of the ceremony. Not until it came to me that I had completely forgotten about Twilight Gap when he made his approach.

In that moment, I was okay. And okay was enough.

Without even realizing, my hand rose, coming into contact with his own, where he subtly took hold upon impact. His hands were rough from battle, yet soft all the same, making me completely hypnotic to his every move.

And before I knew it, we were dancing, swaying in a delicate pattern that closely matched the music in the background.

"You look beautiful tonight," He would say to me in genuine compliment. Never did I receive random compliments in such a manner, not unless it was from a boy from a one night stand with the mindset of self-gain. This was real. And for the first time in so long that night, I smiled and basked in the delight.

I never learned how to dance. We aren't taught to, nor does the Tower support or fund classes to teach such things, yet it is a common act among guardians. You would be surprised at the moves people can come up with at the Tower. Never have I danced until now, yet I managed perfectly, the movement appearing to just come naturally as my ability to formulate viable thoughts was disabled. I was too distracted by him, my eyes never leaving his.

His opposite hand was placed on the exposed skin of my back, pulling me close to him as we shared a moment of recreation. I could feel his void attach to my solar, making the warmth of my body relax to a comfortable temperature. I was at ease.

And we carried on like that. For hours, perhaps, I didn't keep up. All until the darkness of the night was evident and fireworks painted the sky. Never did we submit to fatigue, for we were too mesmerized by the moment to do so.

But eventually, those fireworks did come to an official hush, thus, our dance did as well.

I remember him asking me to stay, saying I did not yet need to return to my work, but I hesitantly refused.

"How long will you be gone?" He asked with what seemed to be anticipation. "When will I see you again?"

If I was being honest, I didn't know. I never knew. I went into battle with the mindset that I might die and I might never return. And so I turned away from him and moved to board my ship, but stopped beforehand.

Remembering the night before and how I didn't want to leave him like that again, I turned, staying, "Some day, Greenhorn," before closing the door to my Valkyrie and taking off into space.

* * *

 **AUTHORS NOTE:**

 _I just want to apologize for the lack of uploading, guys! That last month before the release of Forsaken, I was completely out of Destiny and was focused on playing other games. No muse for Destiny = no muse for writing Destiny. Luckily, Forsaken revived the game as I'd expect, and I'm excited to continue writing Celestial! In apology, I'm giving you guys an extra long chapter._

 _I would of written this sooner, but that grind for 600 light is consuming all my time, lmao. Prime engram drop and milestone luck is currently not on my side, I'm still sitting at 566 light. My clan and I are also working on our first last wish completion and its so hard to correlate schedules so it is taking forever. Ugh._

 _ANYWAYS, Ren and Zavala finally get closer to each other this chapter, but unfortunately ended with her departure. I will say, next chapter is when this story will live up to it's title and the true journey of Ren as the Celestial Nighthawk begins. Big things are coming._

 _As always, thank you all so much for reading! Don't forget to like and follow!_

 _Also, REVIEWS would be greatly appreciated! I want to know what you guys think!_

 _Stay tuned for chapter four!_


	5. FOUR

**Chapter Four**

 **"WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A GUARDIAN"**

* * *

As my body leaned back against a large boulder, keeping watch over the sleeping survivors in their tents, my eyes couldn't help but lift to the stars above. There were so many, painting, illuminating the galaxy.

It is hard to believe all those little dots are planets and suns with more hidden planets around them. A vast universe with life and territory that still remains uncharted, belonging to darkness and perhaps little light.

It was strange, thinking like this without the whispers of said Celestial's conquering my mind and perceptions. I was relaxed, free to astonish and gape at the world's beauty.

The night was silent, minions of the darkness no where to be seen, yet my right hand held tightly to the scout rifle I found upon scavenging through an abandoned camp for supplies. My body was exhausted, for I haven't rested since we left the city, which was approximately two weeks ago, maybe more. I needed rest. I no longer had the Traveler's light to heal said exhaustion upon my command. The thing is, I could, for we have not ran into any harmful enemy's since day two of travel when we were hunted and I had to fight off a pack of Red Legion mercenaries and hounds. Every once in a while, I would spot a Devil or two, but they never approached, only fled, knowing of their disadvantage in numbers and they were still terrorized by Ghaul's invasion on Earth. And I never harmed them either. There was no need to if they had no harmful intentions.

The Fallen and my group, we were both survivors. And in that period of recovery, there was no reason for combat, we both knew that. So we carried on.

My eyes soon faced back forward, gazing into the heat of the fire I sat near. For a moment, I sat my rifle down and leaned forward, extending my hands to feel the heat, hoping it would radiate through the rest of my frame. I was so cold, a feeling I was not used to and have no memory of ever experiencing before. All I knew was solar from my Gunslinger aptitude. With such warmth, I could effortlessly survive in the cold of Northern Old Russia, yet suffered in the scorching heat of the summer. Pros and cons, I suppose.

There was a broadcast that sent coordinates of some camp called "The Farm" to all living ghosts, so right now, that was where we were heading. The journey has been hard, for all the survivors are humans who have human needs. They need food, water, and require stops to rest. It was as if I spent more time searching for these things for them rather than actually leading them to this Farm. There was also that newborn, but luckily, there was a woman in the group that could breastfeed and care for it. It was hard, yes, but we were managing okay. The civilians had more strength than I thought. Then again, when I was a guardian, I never had the chance to actually venture through the city and interview and chat with some of them to learn of their lifestyles or see how they were doing. I was too busy completing missions, bounties or patrols. I stayed active.

Everything that we worked so hard to build was destroyed in one day. The City evolved tremendously, from mere tents to solid walls and skyscrapers. Life was normal, safe, and the children slept soundly at night without fear.

That was so long ago, when the Titans rose the first wall. About two-hundred years ago if I had to estimate, I don't know. More or less.

I am old, after all. Ancient to modern society. Yet, my legs still hold immense strength to carry forward. I wasn't as strong as I was all those years ago when I fought for the city. I could be, I don't know if it's because of my loss of the Guardian title or that I just don't have motivation anymore. I'm old news. The Celestial Nighthawk is dead in the eyes of modern humanity. History. Has been for, what, twenty-four years now? Twenty-five? Six? How long ago was I exiled?

My hand raised to pinch the bridge of my nose. I couldn't remember anymore. My memory, and brain in general was a lost cause, damaged, scorched by the bird from using it for all these years.

All anyone cares for anymore is the guardians resurrected around the time of the Black Garden incident. The one's who slain Crota and Oryx, who put an end to SIVA.

No one remembered the infamous Gunslinger who wielded the venerated Celestial Nighthawk, the only one since the Collapse. No one remembers the war hero who saved hundreds of civilian lives in the Battle of Six Fronts. No one knows Ren, a member of the Six Coyotes who was among the first to scout the Cosmodrome or who escorted thousands of refugees to the city. No one remembers the brave hunter who followed and endorsed Shaxx's decision to attack in the dire last-second moment of Twilight Gap.

The Guardian who signed off on the Faction Accords alongside Andal Brask.

The Guardian who fought in the Battle of Burning Lake, and being among the first to discover the Hive species.

No one remember's the Guardian who launched the audacious offense on the moon, precipitating The Great Disaster, no matter their failure.

Or the Guardian who was among the six who killed the last Ahamkara in the Great Ahamkara Hunt.

It didn't matter what all I have done.

I was dust in the Last City's history books, crammed between thin pages.

No matter my accomplishments or sacrifices for that wretched city, the amazing Commander Zavala proceeded the make the decision to exile me. And no one knew why. Not truly. Only him and I know the real reason he sent me away.

I hated myself for loving someone like him. He is no leader, but a coward in a mask.

So, why do I think of him as I stare into this dreary fire, desperate for warmth? My hands shook with immense fraught as my eyelids lay half-closed, features holding nothing. No emotion.

Will I ever be accepted? I couldn't help but think as my eyes drooped more.

My body shifted, and upon hearing a soft reverberation of the Nighthawk mask, my concentration altered. I moved to take hold of the skull, unclasping it from the chain on my waist and raising it in front of me for scrutinizing. My thighs were bent to touch my chest in the tight sitting position, chin being set on my knees as I stared.

Holding it with my left, my right hand caressed the hard texture and material that made up the shell. So many scars were forever etched into the framework, telling its history of war. The fire and red in the background shown through the eyes, naturally setting the picture of its true, menacing appearance. A shiver roved up my spine.

"You're her, aren't you?"

The sudden vocalization precipitated an extortionate flinch to radiate through me. In a hurry, I descended the mask of the helmet and shoved it beside me, extending my legs and removing myself from the weak position.

A child, a young human boy, exited his tent and stood. I stared at him, head tilted.

"The Celestial Nighthawk. I've studied so much about you, even outside of school." They mention my name in schools?

My eyes widened at the child. He approached and sat beside me by the fire, back against the rock. His expression was dissimilar compared to his astonished statement. His eyes held sadness, frown formed on his lips as he looked down, I did as well, not saying a word in response. My actions indirectly confirmed his assumption.

This child wasn't too young, but he wasn't that old either, it was surprising he knew who I was. Not even modern civilian elders know or care to know about someone like me. They are too busy focusing on their own lives.

"They don't talk about our history much, but those who do thought you abandoned us or were... dead." My eyes raised to the boy again. No matter his age, he held a strong vibe of intelligence and care for the City and it's history. Suddenly, his eyes moved and lit up with joy, smile coming to his features. He pointed at the mask on the ground. "Can I...?" He couldn't even finish his question, so much exhilaration was surging through him, but I knew what he wanted.

Raising my right hand, I extended it beside me, picking the bird up, and handing it to the boy.

The lack of weight seemed to surprise him, but his delight remained evident as he traced his fingers over the skeleton. But eventually, his smile faded. "The only one of its kind... I've heard so much about it... and it's dead..." My eyebrows furrowed at his words. How could he be so upset about this? Does he not acknowledge the damage it brings to those around it? To it's wielder? No matter the good it brings.

What I didn't know was that it wasn't despondency the boy held, or at least that wasn't all; it was envy.

His small, human hand rose to my face, and surprisingly, I didn't shy away. His thumb softly caressed the burns surrounding my eyes, and I flinched, but soon eased into it, watching him. It has been awhile since I've experienced flesh-to-flesh contact.

After a moments silence, the boy retreated his hand quickly after realizing what he was doing, shaking his head and apologizing. He let his curiosity get the best of him.

"Thank you," he said after a minute in a hushed whisper, "For everything you have done in the past for us... and everything you have done the other day."

I remember saving this boy. He was all alone, weeping, mourning for the loss of his parents. It was how I found a lot of them, grieving for their lost loved ones.

"I want to be half as strong as you are one day."

Guardian's often receive praises such as this from city inhabitants. Thank you's, and gazes of worship. I never had the opportunity to experience this often, really, for I was always out here, in the wild, doing what guardian's once did. I was known for it. No civilian has ever truly conversed or met the Celestial Nighthawk, most even think my whole story to be a myth. Unfortunately, it was not.

And so, I couldn't help but smile. My first one in years, perhaps. I don't remember. It almost hurt, the strange feeling and activation of multiple facial muscles to produce such a simple, yet significant, thing. He was so young, yet he recognized me, from the stories and, apparently, mentioning's in history classes at schools.

But when I turned my head to again look at him, he was looking down, and his eyes were teared, fists clenched. Within seconds, he transitioned from joyous to saddened once again.

"I want to become a Guardian..." He spoke after a minute, voice cracking as he fought to hold back his tears and weeps. In a swift move, he turned to look at me, tears in his eyes mixed with determination. It broke my heart. "Do you think... I could ever be like you?" Not broke, shattered.

I almost grew emotional myself, feeling the upmost sympathy for this child. He looked at me with that familiar envy as I did to him.

I would give anything to be normal.

And he would equally give the same to be a Guardian.

To simply put it, the answer was no. To both of our wishes. I could not be normal, and he could not be a guardian. But I would not tell him that, no. It would crush him, more than he already is with his grief. Instead I proceeded to stay silent, but I could not conceal the look in my eyes that clearly stated a solicitous NO.

A tear fell from his eye. He looked away, unclenching his fists.

My eyes moved back forward, gazing into the fire, determined to fix this. "Having the ability to wield the Traveler's light does not make one a Guardian," I finally spoke to the boy, voice avoiding emotion, for the first time. I couldn't see it, but I could feel his eyes being placed back on me. "To be a Guardian, you must be valiant, even when you are afraid. Especially when you are afraid."

"Guardians fear?" He asked, voice seeming clear and interested. His sadness must have softened. I sighed, relieved.

"I do," I admitted, looking down at the blazing log. The boy fell silent. "I'm afraid. Always have been." I told myself I would never speak like this to anyone else again, but I quickly realized that it wasn't all about me. I was saying these things because it is what the boy needed to hear. I wasn't a Guardian anymore, but he did not seem to know that. And he didn't have to. "It is almost as if fear is what makes guardians so strong. They fuel us, so in the end, we can conquer and make peace with them."

I finally turned to him once more to see him staring at me with so much veneration, eyes clean of any sign of woe. I continued.

"To be a Guardian, you must fear everything. Fear the death of loved ones. Fear the death of yourself. Fear the destruction of humanity. Fear these things, so that if it happens, you will be prepared, and you can do what you can to defend those lives and the city."

"Did you fear the fall of the Last City? Did you fear this attack?" He suddenly asked.

I hesitated, but decided to answer honestly. There was no reason to lie anymore. "I did not," I admitted. I had the complete opposite state of mind. He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head at me. "And because I didn't, I wasn't prepared."

"But you saved so many of us!" It was almost as if he sensed my woe and was trying to cheer me up with his positivity, but the truth of the matter is, two dozen people was not a lot in the overall city population. Don't get me wrong, I refuse to take my accomplishment of saving these people for granted, but...

"I could of done better," I stated, more stern than I probably should have. Not too loud, though; I couldn't wake the others up. The boy flinched, shocked at my outburst of emotion. I was angry, my own fists now moving to clench by my sides. I wanted to rant about my exile, how the Nighthawk forced so much hatred and rage on my mind. If I was still at the Tower, if I was still a Guardian, I could of been more prepared. I could of tried to fight back Ghaul, and if I couldn't, I could of saved so many more people.

If I never met him that one day after Twilight Gap... If I never fell victim to love... I would of been prepared. I would still be a Guardian.

Not moments later, I felt a small hand being placed on my own. My eyes again snapped over to the boy in shock. He had that same smile on his face that I once held.

It was then that all the words I had said to him, and that one delicate question of his consumed my thinking. My immediate response, was no, he couldn't become a Guardian, but after contemplating my own words, that wasn't the case.

The truth is, he could be a Guardian if he wanted to, he just wouldn't have the light. My eyes held so much sympathy in that moment, holding that answer of no, but it wasn't for him.

It was for me. I would never be normal.

I am trapped in this prison of naught until the Traveler dies or I myself perish into the black and white of history.

"Your question from earlier...," Like a true Guardian, I pushed back my emotions, concentrating more on the boy than myself. My facade returned solemn as I gazed at the boy with utmost authenticity.

His eyes seemed to gleam. He was nervous, scared of my verbal response.

"Yes, even you can become a Guardian."

* * *

 **FLASHBACK**

 **Six years after Ren's Tower departure**

 **"A DISCOVERY AT BURNING LAKE"**

* * *

"Target spotted. Two-hundred meters," my voice was hushed. A mere sniper rifle was shoved into the crook of my shoulder, head lowered, and right eye piercing through the scope. Ghost was vanished, but I could hear his movement beside me. "What is that thing?"

The cross hairs of the scope focused on the beast as I studied it with emphasis and intense curiosity. The creature was large and covered in a natural, maroon-colored set of armor, appearing exceptionally formidable. "It seems to be standing at approximately 9-feet. Female, I think... Maybe genderless?" The helm was sizable and it had three green eyes that glowed, sharp teeth baring.

In conclusion, it was terrifying, not only because of it's appearance, but also because it is unknown to me. That being said, it is unpredictable, and uncertainty is dangerous.

Ghost spoke, "Let me search the forum."

Two seconds passed.

"Ah!" He vocalized, "Just recently actually... Rezyl Azzir spotted a creature similar looking to this beast on the moon. A 'Hive Wizard,' he called it. He killed the Wizard's consort and took his 'chitin' to adorn the Rose hand cannon."

"Hive, huh?" I lowered the rifle, lifting up my head to stare at the beast with my bare eyes.

"But... that is the only interaction recorded with these 'Hive'. Nobody took Azzir to be serious, thinking him mad, so the city just disregarded this. Should I alert the Tower?"

I've only been to the Tower five times after the Twilight Gap Remembrance ceremony. But only stayed for a few minutes each time to return engrams, and organize my vault, never visited unless it was with Brask. One time I stayed for a day because he consulted me on the Faction Accords. Those factions, always causing trouble with each other. It has been a while since my last visit.

"They better regard it soon, looks like they are invading Earth now," Ghost stayed silent. I placed the rifle back on my shoulder, leaning down to gaze through the scope. "Not yet, I wish to study this thing longer... The question is, is it hostile?"

It was quiet out, and that one Hive creature appeared all alone. I watched it walk, studying its movement and weapon in hand. "Strange weapon," I commented. The day was fading, so as minutes pass by, the atmosphere grows darker. Ghost protests, saying we should retreat to my ship and return to the city to report this at once, but I ignored him and stayed still, trying to learn more about this creature. I could very well be one of the first Guardians to discover one of these things. I wasn't going to abandon this after spotting it so soon.

As it turns out, that was an amateur mistake.

I heard movement, but I ignored it, merely thinking it was the wind blowing a few weeds against the crust. I was too late when Ghost suddenly shouted my name, and something stepped in front of my view of the hive beast.

When I lowered my rifle and made eye contact, a loud screech came from it, piercing my ears and most likely gaining attention from it's allies.

I, myself, fell backwards and shrieked in shock, curses spewing from my lips as I struggled to sit myself up.

This creature was similar looking to that of the other, but smaller. Possibly the grunt of the species, like a Dreg is to it's Captain.

Suddenly, my sniper disappeared from my hand and was replaced by a hand cannon, thanks to my ghost. Immediately, I raised the weapon and shot it. I didn't even aim, but managed to get a head-shot, instantly killing the thing. I watched the body wither and collapse to the floor in an ash-like matter.

"Shit..." I cursed, sitting myself up. Ghost appeared in front of me, looking me over for injuries, but I raised my opposite hand and pushed his shell away. "I'm fine, I'm fine. I guess that answers my question. The Hive species should be labeled as minions of the darkness. Precision is the head. Note that."

When I stood up and dusted myself off, I heard more noises similar to that of the Hive minion. When I looked up, I froze. Coming from behind hills, rocks, and caves, dozens of Hive came out of hiding, putting their attention on me, screaming to alert everyone in the proximity.

"Ghost, start recording—"

"But, Guardian!"

"I'm about to fight a newly-discovered species, the data you can collect will be more significant to City history than you know. Do as I—" But I couldn't finish, for a beast alike the one I was originally spectating quickly ran to my side and took a swing at me with some strange sword-like weapon. I instantly tossed myself forward, performing a successful dodge before turning, grasping hold of one of the throwing knives attached to my belt, heating it with my solar, and throwing the blade at the creature.

I watched for his response. It wasn't smart, really, waiting for even just a second before attacking and putting an end to the thing, but I also wanting to learn more. And that can only be found through battle and spectating.

A scream of agony came from the beast as the fire penetrated its frame, I then finished it off with a head-shot from the hand cannon. "It's armor withers underneath my fire. A weakness, perhaps?" Ghost watched me, his "eye" being that of red instead of blue, signalling that he was, indeed, recording.

Solar must be their weakness, like Arc damage is to the Fallen.

There was no time to think about it, though.

The mass of hive began approaching expeditiously, I almost had no time to react. It was made up of three types or forms of hive enemy; There were the large formidable beasts, the grunt-morphs, and the smaller, weaker-looking enemy. They didn't have any visible eyes and appeared to have a more skeletal-like appearance. And they were fast, traveling in a large pack and approaching very quickly.

I tried to disregard the need to observe, forcing my body to act. Cupping my left hand, I formed an Incendiary Grenade, throwing it to the group of brisk-hive. As it explodes, the fire spreads to the body, instantly killing them all.

They were so weak, it took almost nothing to kill them. I managed to take out almost a dozen with one grenade. I suppose they weren't bred for resilience, perhaps for distraction and damage, at least when they were in packs such as that. I can only imagine being swarmed by a group of them, their sharp, long claws digging into my skin.

Again, there was no time to fret. The fighting continued as the grunts and large beasts approached me with no hint of hesitation. So far, not a scratch was on me, and the exhilaration and adrenaline scuttling through me, precipitated my light to quickly build up, and before I knew it, I felt the immense amount of light in my frame spark. My super was ready.

And so, I wouldn't waste not even a second. I raised my hand cannon in the air, allowing the flames to conquer all. My flesh was set ablaze, but it was not painful, for I have grown used to the solar aptitude after much training. It is a strong element, but easily managed by those destined to wield it.

Counting down the seconds I had left to use such a power, I turned and aimed the weapon, killing off the three major-ranked, formidable enemies, including the one I was studying earlier. With each shot, I felt a wave of relief overcome me as I released that light. After my primary ability faded away, I did not falter, yet continued at full speed, knife in my left hand, hand cannon in my right. I've mastered my weapons, therefore I was more than capable to hit precision after precision. With every melee kill, I felt the rotting armor and flesh of the hive make contact with the cloth over my hands and arms. I wanted to take a sample, but such an enemy is not like the fallen, where the body remains after death, but instead withers into thin air. Such a shame.

I eventually lost track of time, there were so many of them and it was as if they never stopped coming. I was exhausted, and injured, yet my light proceeded to heal me. But eventually, the waves shortened, and soon, there was nothing.

My body panted in absolute exhaustion, as I sat down, awaiting another wave.

"Guardian, me must go! You can not continue like this!"

I turned to see Ghost protesting to me in a desperate manner. The red of his eye changed to the original blue, disobeying my request of recording the fight for data due to his great worry.

He was right, technically. My body ached and required genuine rest, yet I stayed, refusing to move as my eyes glared into the pit the hive initially descended and revealed themselves from. I felt the earth shake beneath me.

"We are not done here, yet, Ghost," I turned to him and smiled, even though he could not see my face underneath my helmet. The crust shook in a manner like something was walking. Step after step. "Something is coming," I said abruptly, lowering myself to the ground. I watched the blackness of the hole.

It was dark now. I had night vision programmed into my helmet, of course, but it was still dangerous nonetheless. Minions of the darkness thrive in, well, darkness.

Sure enough, something did eventually exit and showed itself, and what it was actually made me gasp and curse in absolute terror. "What the hell is that thing?" I cried out in fright, louder than intended, therefore, catching the monsters gaze. The creature had the same skeletal appearance of that of the brisk, smaller hive I encountered that traveled in packs, but was larger, much larger. It's precision spot was not visually perceivable. It appeared to lack eyes and its teeth were bared, countenance and armor thick.

I've never witnessed anything more stronger or terrifying in my entire existence, more than Fallen Barons. I didn't know what it was going to do, so I watched it reluctantly. Soon, though, it began it's assault, shooting at me relentlessly with... void energy? From its "eyes". How does this morph of hive have the ability to fire that of a specific element from its own body?

I shrieked and lowered myself behind the hill. Ghost vanished to prevent being spotted and shot down, but still spoke intensely. "Guardian!" I ignored him, reaching for my hand cannon to reload. "Ren!" But with the loud vocalization of my name coming from him, I finally looked up at him. Ghost never calls me by my actual name unless he was genuinely distraught and serious. "Please, we have to leave. You can not win—"

But he could not finish, for another loud shriek came from the monstrosity behind us and the small mound of earth. With that, I transitioned my focus back to reloading my weapon, but upon opening the cylinder to my revolver, and seeing it empty, I panicked. My hands patted over my belt, but no ammunition could be found.

"Shit," I cursed, my heart skipped a beat. I was screwed. I was out of primary ammo, and my energy weapon that was currently equipped was a sniper rifle, I could not get a proper shot at such a close distance. Even if I instructed Ghost to switch to a shotgun, I would have to find new ammunition.

"What's wrong?!" Ghost was freaking out for my sake.

I didn't answer him right away, only asking, "Do I have ammunition for heavy?"

But he didn't answer, which gave me my answer. I was completely out.

"Damn it!" I cursed loudly, not caring for the necessity of hushing my volume. I could hear the beast getting closer. Gunslinger wasn't ready and I only had one knife left.

Anyone who was in my position would typically give up, but I couldn't. There was no chance that I could survive this thing, but I could not give up.

I quickly lifted my head, turning to peak over the mount of dirt, watching the beast come closer, scanning the ground for ammo that any of my previous kills could have dropped. And I did, a primary ammo crate sat a few yards behind the creature. My eyes narrowed.

"Ren, don't—!"

I ignored him, I almost didn't even hear him, I just started moving, static conquering my perception. My hand reached for my final knife, heating it with my fire, and abruptly throwing it to pierce the beast where the eyes would be, where it was shooting it's beams of void. When it screamed in agony, I took the opportunity, running at full speed towards it. The monsters hands reached up to its face as the knife continues to burn into its skull, clawing at itself to rid its body of the daggers effect.

I, on the other hand, took advantage, sliding myself in between its legs to quickly grab hold of the box. I grabbed my hand cannon, using the grip of the gun to break open the crate and collect the ammunition, loading my gun in seconds.

But as I was expeditiously reloading the gun, not even a few feet away from the struggling beast, something managed to catch my eye. One by one, I quickly inserted the solid bullets into the cylinder, hands shaking, but, for some reason, my head lifted momentarily, shifting to gaze to my right. Sitting there, hidden among the long-deceased bushes, behind a compact boulder where I could not see before, was an exotic engram.

Time seemed to stop for a moment, static congesting my eardrums. My eyes would widen and marvel at the sight that I have been given an exotic, my first actually. I was so astonished, that I completely let my guard down unintentionally, hand extending to reach for engram.

But it was too late.

I do not know what happened after that. All I remember was the static, and sudden, alarmed shout of my name coming from my Ghost. All I remembered was the abrupt darkness that took over my visualization that I was all too familiar with, yet the gold of that one engram remained. Such a silly thing, really.

Then, I never truly knew how much that small, tediously-colored box would change the rest of my life, and the life of the city forever.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

I was simply so into writing the past scene that I lost track of how much I was writing. I wanted to minimize the detail, so I could add more story, but after reading over this, I actually quite enjoy it, and I hope you guys do too! I was wanting to add more, but I suppose that will have to wait until next chapter.

Nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoyed Chapter Four!

Make sure to favorite, follow, and REVIEW! I'd love to know what you guys think of Celestial so far!

Stay tuned for Chapter Five!


	6. FIVE

_This chapter begins and completely takes place in the past._

 _NOTE: To those reading along with the updates, I have changed the time-span of Ren's exile from 6 years to 24 years due to the time certain events take place. It may seem like a long time, but keep in mind Guardian lifespan, therefore time passes quickly and they age slowly._

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

 **"FIRE"**

* * *

I desperately held onto a soul that has been set afire by an unruly inferno. I've been a gunslinger for years, wielding my ability with skill and evident mastery, but the truth is, you can never truly master the element you are destined to exert.

I didn't admit this to myself.

My conscience held great pride and puissance, no matter the occasional doubt. I was a solid Guardian, so I thought, but we are always learning and discovering more about our capabilities, that it's hard to know who the real adept ones are. And I failed. That evening of the Hive invasion, I failed.

So, as I lay in silence, I couldn't help but hesitate,

 _Am I dead?_

No, impossible. I know what it feels like to be dead: nothing, it feels like nothing. I've encountered death on multiple occasions. This isn't that.

 _Where am I?_

It was dark, but my sensations were working. I felt... hot. Scorching hot, like I was on fire. Not the typical warmth of a solar-wielding Guardian, but more. I literally felt like I was on fire.

 _I can't see_.

"She's overheating! We need to—" I heard voices, but I was too weak to acknowledge who they belonged to.

"No, Zavala! There's nothing we can do. She has to make it through this on her own."

Zavala... I remember him. I listened as the two argue back and forth, but I couldn't hear them for the most part.

"She is awakening," a mechanical voice spoke, who I did immediately recognize as Ghost. The room grew quiet.

My eyes shot open, mouth gaping widely as I gasp for breath. It was as if I just woke up from a coma, or from death.

 _I can't breathe._

"I can't—I can't," but I couldn't tell them, my throat was so parched I couldn't make out the words. My eyes darted as my vision seemed to pulse.

 _It hurts_ — _my head_ — _is killing me._

Instinctively, my hands reached up to claw at my face, but as my unclothed fingers came into contact with a foreign helmet, a shriek of pain left my lips, hand immediately retracting. It.. burned me, the helmet. Turning my head over, my eyes met and recognized Brask kneeling beside me. "What's happening to me?" The words came out as a pained mumble, as I whimpered. It felt like I was burning alive. My body shook rapidly, and I could feel the sweat running down my arms. I was rid of my armor, and was left in the jumpsuit that hugged my body tightly for security. They were clothes worn underneath armor to protect the skin from welts.

Tears swelled up in my eyes that eventually fell. I wept aloud, unable to handle the pain surging through my frame. It was as if a thousand needles pierced my flesh. I felt like an animal that was being branded.

My head spun, and my body was on the verge of passing out.

 _It hurts so bad._

"Help me plea-ea-ease," I screamed, begging as my voice mixed with sobs. I tried moving, but I couldn't, for I was subtly pushed back down upon showing motion. Eyebrows furrowed, my eyes were forced open again to scan the room, no matter my hazy vision. I was lying in the infirmary. The newest Warlock Vanguard, Ikora Rey, stood against the wall adjacent to my lying frame, arms crossed, as she scrutinized me with immense absorption. Zavala, who has just became Titan Vanguard and Vanguard Commander, sat by my side on the cot, as he held the hand that got burned due to my curiosity. My mind was too focused on the pain to retract from the strange touch. And finally, Brask with a look of worry conquering his features. I noticed his hands shaking. I've never seen him so anxious. "Andal!" I cried out. I never called him by his first name, finding it degrading to his title and rank in the system, but at the same time, he was my best friend. He would always ask me to call him by his first, but I would refuse. "Make it sto—op!"

My hand unconsciously gripped Zavala's tightly as I pierced up at Brask with tears clouding my eyes and soaking my face, only to be evaporated quickly due to the mass amount of heat. He wouldn't see, though, none of them could truly see how much pain I was in, for the helmet hid it all.

I was audibly sobbing, now. Brask had to stand and move away from me, hands running through his dark hair, grasping onto his skull so tightly that his knuckles grew to a white hue. Unbeknownst to me, he was angry and upset that he could not help or stop the pain.

We have been through so much together. He was my mentor when I arrived to the initial camps of the last city, and from that we grew closer and became friends. We fought together in many battles, and have spent many evenings together partying and spending time together in general. I can only imagine the pain he must be feeling to see me, a dear friend, in a state like this, to see me on the brink of death.

But of course, I didn't know this. I don't know what is happening to me right now, as I writhe in absolute torment.

With the departure of Brask, there was no one directly by my side, besides Zavala, to hold me down if I unintentionally acted out. You would think that he would be enough, from his outstanding musculature to his strong determination, but when a thick wave of adrenaline scuttled throughout my frame, that turned out to be it.

I couldn't take it anymore, I had to do something to stop it, and I didn't know what, but all I knew then was that I had to move. Upon acknowledging this, my body shot upwards with one final shout of desperation. Zavala immediately moved to push me back down, but with all my strength, I raised my arms to his chest and pushed him backwards with great force. I had no time to gape at my sudden robustness, for I had abruptly stood and began making my way to what I presumed was the exit. My vision pulsed and I stumbled hard.

It felt like lightning was striking throughout my frame, echoing down my spine, making my legs go weak and falter, but I did not fall. I didn't know how I found the strength to keep going, but I managed to shove my body against the door, and push it open, escaping from the imprisonment of that infirmary.

I didn't hear it, for I had already departed, but brief dialogue was exchanged behind me.

"Let her go!" Ghost shouted as Zavala had reached out for me as I moved to leave, "She needs to cool down."

"No!" Brask protested, fury and fear in his voice. He retracted his hands and began moving to the exit, ushering the other vanguards to follow. "Ren is very vulnerable right now, she could die! If she loses control during this trial, the exotic will take over and bring who knows what kind of devastation and damage to the city! You saw what happened at Burning Lake when it chose her!" He turned and pointed back at Ghost. "This could result in many deaths including that of the host, we have to stop and secure her! This is not like any other exotic, Ghost, I will _not_ lose another Guardian to that damn Nighthawk!"

The Warlock and Titan were almost so shocked at their fireteam members words and the stern tone of his voice that they halted for a moment, but when he ran out the doors, they quickly followed after him. Ghost also followed

I, on the other hand, had found a balance, and was on a full-blown sprint to find my way out of the corridors. That same static returned to my ear-drums as my blurred vision began to grow red.

 _What's happening? What's happening to me?_ I thought I thought, but it turns out that I had verbally screamed those words aloud upon moving towards the light at the end of the hall.

It felt like adrenaline was completely conquering me, but it was actually light. I was overwhelmed with so much light right now, I've never felt such a huge need to release it. It was almost too much light, for I literally felt like I was suffocating underneath this mask that did not belong to me. My body couldn't breathe and the only thing I could do was run.

Upon exiting the corridor, before me stood the Tower Watch. Many guardians took up the space, conversing, returning and acquiring bounties, giving the Cryptarch engrams, and buying weapons from our newest Gunsmith, Banshee-44. So many people, but as I reached the steps and made the first move to descend, suddenly arms wrapped around my waist and I was pulled back. My mood shifted promptly from fear to anger. Anger at who grabbed me. Anger that I was stopped.

But it wasn't me. I wanted to be stopped. This was not my anger, this isn't me acting and moving right now. I felt like a passenger to my own body and mind.

I skirmished, but whoever was behind me did not give up and proceeded to pull me back and away from the stairway that led to the Watch. "Let go of me!" I heard myself scream deafeningly, tone laced in anger and pain, and gaining the attention of many. Elbowing the person behind me with great force, I turned quickly to see Brask behind me, and Zavala and Ikora following him up. But, when he made eye contact with me, and noticed the red-orange hue coming from the eyes of my helmet. . .

"Shit. Grab her! Quickly!" He ordered the other Vanguards. Afterwards, Brask lunged to me in attempt to secure. Upon feeling attacked, my body acted on its own. When he reached for me, I ducked, moving behind him to only send a kick to his back, and making him stumble forward. Not only did my amount of strength surprise me, but the others seemed to hesitate briefly as well. Only briefly, for they afterwards quickly moved to me. Zavala managed to grab one of arms, and Ikora grabbed the other, bringing them behind my back, but what ever was controlling my movement at that moment did not allow that to hold me. I jumped up off the ground, raising my legs to the wall, kicking off it, and shoving the pair behind me against the wall. The impact resulted in my release.

I just overpowered two vanguards.

I would never do that. Not because this newfound strength wasn't mine and I typically wouldn't be strong enough, but because the Vanguards are very dear to me, as they are to any Guardian. I wouldn't have the heart to fight back, not unless triggered in some way, and whatever was happening to me now, it is absolutely controlling me.

No matter my surprise, as soon as I felt freedom, I once again took off towards the stairs, only to once again be blocked by Brask.

"Ren, listen to me!" My body halted in front of him momentarily, arms raising to push him back, but he beat me to it and grabbed onto my wrists. "You need to calm down, you're not used to your new exotic, this can end disastrously!"

But I didn't listen to him, I literally couldn't perceive what he was saying, not really. The static grew as his grip on my wrists began to make me feel smothered, thus in danger, and so I acted on that feeling. His human, light-green eyes bore into the ignited ones of my helm, and it held something I never thought I'd see.

Fear. Andal was terrified. _Of me_.

Realizing this and gazing back into his hit something in me, making my shoulders relax and releasing my clenched fists. I let out a shaky breath.

"Good," he commented softly, still holding my wrists. Zavala and Ikora stood on standby.

Looking to the side, past the bars of the balcony, I saw many faces staring, some masked by helmets, others left unequipped, and those who lacked said armor all held the same emotion.

Fear. Curiosity. Bewilderment.

And it was all directed at me and their Vanguards.

"They're scared of you," a dark voice said right in my ear. Upon hearing this, I faced forward briskly, body tensing once again, making Brask tense as well. I stared at him again, thinking it was him who said those words to me. My heart beat was fast and evident and vibrated through my bones. "Look around you, and see how they look back. Don't you feel it?" My eyes gazed at his lips. They didn't move. What is this?

"Stop," I mumbled out to whoever spoke to me in a cry as my agonizing migraine intensified. My eyes and head began to move and turn, but not on my own accords. I scanned the area, back to Zavala and Ikora. They held that same look in their eyes.

 _Fear_.

Back at the Guardians on the main level of the tower watch. At the Cryptarch, the gunsmith, the bounty tracker, even Tess Everis, the Eververse representative left her post, to watch the violent events play out. All of them held it.

 _Fear_.

And finally, to Brask, of whom I began at. My teacher. My friend.

 _Fear_.

Every last one of their eyes pierced me as they met the horrifying eyes of my helm, and yes, I felt it. And I couldn't stand it. I hated the negative attention and it stirred something. It stirred hatred, it stirred rage. I felt like a monster on display.

"But we are not afraid," the voice said as I stared at Brask intently, begging his lips to move to prove me wrong about hearing things, about officially going crazy, "You don't fear your allies, so. . . Who do you think the real monsters are?" My hands shook with great anxiety.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I suddenly asked Andal, voice tremulous. "Like. . . Like I'm the enemy."

"Ren—" He cut me off, releasing my wrists in shock to my question, but I didn't give him anytime to say anything.

"No!" I unconsciously shouted. When he reached out to me, I quickly grabbed onto his own wrist, blocking any planned movement, and sending a brawny punch to his gut. My attacks cause him to lean forward, and as he does, I sent another punch to his skull. Brask falters, but I don't let go. In fact, I proceed to expeditiously drag him to the edge of the balcony, prepared to send him over the edge, but I am stopped by Zavala.

"Enough!" The newly Commander shouts. The Hunter Vanguard clutched onto the railing as I dropped his wrist. Brask was scared, not of me, but for me, and that fear was beginning to prevent him of fighting back. Zavala approached, standing strong, prepared to attack if needed. I turned to face him, feeling as the railing pressed against my waist.

"He wants to kill you," the voice said. "He'll do anything to protect this vile city."

"I'm not the enemy!" I shouted aloud, voice cracking in woe. It was directed towards the stentorian voice, but outwardly appeared I was screeching at Zavala.

Zavala, upon hearing this, transition his furrowed features into sympathy. "We know you aren't, Ren. Listen to me, step away from the railing, it's going to be fine, we'll get you through this."

Get me through this? What is happening to me?

He slowly began to walk closer, which only made me inch backwards, pressing my waist harder against the railing and begin losing balance, shouting, "Get away—Get away from me!" I stammered, only to look over and see Brask raising to his feet.

Zavala proceeded towards me. With Andal to my left, Zavala in front of me, and Ikora Rey off to the right, I literally felt cornered. Whatever was happening to my mind actually convinced me that I was in danger and made me feel threatened.

"You're going to be fine, just take my hand," Zavala said. My vision was clouded in a drunken red, skin felt like it was burning. There was nothing okay about this.

"Listen to him," Brask reached to me, moving to grab my hand, but upon seeing this, I yanked my hand back, but the force of the retraction was so strong that I could no longer keep balanced.

After this, everything was blurred. One second, I was standing, the next, falling.

I fell about twenty-five feet, for that is how high the balcony was off the main ground of the watch. That doesn't sound like much, but when you land on your stomach and your head plummets into the concrete, it's a whole other story. It happened so fast, that when I looked up, I couldn't make out anything, shapes and quick movement, all dyed in red. I barely saw the three sprint down the steps and approach me as I tried to lift myself off the ground. They spoke, but I heard nothing. Static, ear-piercing static, I swear I felt blood drip from my eardrums.

"They did this to you," the voice said, being the only relatively real thing I could perceive. "They are the reason you are hurting."

Everything felt like it was in slow motion as I watched them move to me. Despite the pain, all I could feel right now was anger; anger at the vanguards, convinced that I was in danger and that I could die. I wasn't me then.

" _Make them pay_."

I couldn't control how I was feeling or acting. All the rage and light that was caged in began to build up, and release was imminent. The longer I held on and resisted the light, the more the heat built, and the more my frame was absolutely scorched.

Soon, I managed to get my feet underneath me, standing, only to stumble again, but I was able to place my hand upon the wall of the postmaster and Eververse building to balance. Looking up and noticing the three quickly moving to me. My mind was compelled to react with fear, so in defense, my hand reached behind me to grasp hold of my hand cannon and shakily raise it, "St—Stay away!" I cried out, backing up slowly. They immediately rose their hands in a surrender.

"Ren, put the gun down," Ikora stated.

"We aren't here to hurt you." I heard them, but barely.

"Clear the Watch! All Guardians retreat to the Hanger!" Ordered Brask loudly and sternly, ignoring the necessity of being calm. Afterwards, he turned back to me, "Don't do this, Ren, it's us. It's Andal." Weeping underneath my mask, I couldn't put the gun down. My arms shook with pain, and it felt like every time I opened my eyes, they were being burnt to the skull. No matter what I personally wanted, I couldn't put the weapon down. My brain was convinced by whatever force that I was threatened, and I barely recognized the people in front of me now. With every second, the world around me becomes more and more imperceptible.

A sharp pain hit my head, and my hands rose to it, crying out, legs stumbling once again. "Whats happening to—Where am—Who are—," But I couldn't finish any of the questions, mind being clogged by so many thoughts that I could not properly conclude one. I turned to see many human soldiers arrive to the scene, weapons raising to aim at me. The fury stirred. I saw the Speaker arrive as well. Of course, you can't see his expression, but telling from his body language, I could he was surprised.

But Zavala just had to interject, moving towards me once again, "Ren—."

Silly mistake.

"Quiet! All of you! Get away from me!" I suddenly shouted, voice cracking, all confusion shifting once again to anger, as I felt all of my light officially conquer me, bringing my fire to life in a manner more strict and ferocious than ever.

Flames erupted from my flesh as my vision was cleared, enhanced actually, to locate a target. I could see the flames dancing off every inch of my body, and it was then I knew that my super has initiated against my will.

Hearing the snap of the assault rifles belonging to the soldiers, I abruptly turned, gun raising to the crowd, only for Brask to shout at them, "Hold your fire!" Thus, upon perceiving, I turned back to the Vanguards, barrel pointed at the closest persons skull: Commander Zavala.

 _They did this to you_.

"You did this to me!"

 _Make them pay_.

"I'll make all of you pay!"

And so, my finger moved to the trigger.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 _ **I've been updating so slow, I truly apologize, but I do not have any intentions on abandoning this story. Just want to think everyone who actually stays with Celestial through these long, anticipating days, haha.**_

 _ **Black Armory comes out tomorrow, and I just now (pretty much last minute) preordered. Honestly, I'm not so sure about it, but I'm sure we'll see how this new "content" system works soon enough.**_

 _ **Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed Five!**_

 _ **As always, make sure to favorite, follow, and REVIEW if you are enjoying! I'd love to know what you guys think.**_

 _ **Stay tuned for Chapter Six!**_


	7. SIX

**Chapter Six**

 **"A NIGHTMARE"**

* * *

The events that played after occurred slower than what I desired them to be.

As I went to pull the trigger, I viewed out of the corner of my eye as Andal's frame rose, leaping himself in the air to actually bring his super to life. The barrel of the gun I boldly held pointed straight at Zavala's skull, and he was frozen in place. I watched as Brask called his void forth and revealed his bow. Pulling back, he hesitantly shot his arrow.

Whatever force controlled me then was not fast enough to acknowledge what was going on outside of demolishing its target.

And so, as I pulled the trigger, I did not feel or hear the sound of a brawny gunshot.

No.

Instead, I felt the arrow of Brask's light pierce into my frame, extinguishing my fire from the foundation of my heart.

In that moment, all scorching heat from before disappeared, the lethal migraine vanished, my hearing and vision was restored, and I was once again in control of my body and heedful of everything happening around me. But not completely, for the affects of Brask's deadly shadow-shot remained, and I found myself collapsing to my knees, gasping for breath as the hand cannon I previously held hit the concrete with a hefty plow. Instinctively, my hand raised to my heart, the source of the pain, looking back up at Brask.

His features were conquered in grief and sorrow, hating himself for using his super on his friend, and for doing so in such a risky manner, but still understanding of the necessity of said actions. The only thing that can cancel out a super in action is that if a Hunter's void. He knew what he had to do, but was so congested with woe that he literally had to turn to avoid any contact with me, hating the sight of seeing my staggering frame responding to his shot.

My eyes then traced downward, seeing the arrow stick out of my chest and how his void covered my entire body to destroy any light. Eventually, though, the arrow disappeared as well did the purple hue, signalling his super was up. Struggling to breathe, my hand rose to my chest, feeling my blood-soaked suit and looking back down at my fingers, seeing the red paint my white.

The last thing I remember was watching Zavala shouting something to the soldiers and Speaker behind me and back at his fireteam members, ushering them to come help me. Ikora didn't hesitate, but Brask was frozen, back facing me, he as well soon dropping to his knees, head in his hands.

And then, death. Succumbing to the dusk.

"Starlight will be your guide, now," said the voice as my body collapsed in demise, "No vacuum will contain you, for you are the Celestial Nighthawk."

* * *

 **TWO** **DAYS** **AFTER** **DEATH** **AND** **REVIVAL**

* * *

I don't remember a time I was dead for that long. Most of the time, it's merely for maybe thirty seconds, sometimes a minute at most if a teammate isn't around to revive me with their own light. Revival was a heavy task for a ghost and requires an immense amount of light and concentration on their part. So one can only imagine the surprise I felt when I finally opened my eyes and read a wall clock that revealed a date two days after the day of the... situation.

"We apprehended you would never wake up."

Looking to my left, I saw Zavala situated beside me, gazing at me with a soft smile and tired eyes. My eyes fluttered awake, searching and soon finding the immobile frame of my ghost sitting on the small table to the side opposite to that of Zavala, the blue light that signaled his life was gone, my eyebrows furrowed, tears coming to my eyes. _Was_ _my_ _ghost_...?

"Do not fret," I quickly shifted back to Zavala, "Your Ghost is just resting, restoring his light. It took a lot out of him to revive you, out of all of us. I have never seen someone require so much out of so many Guardians and ghosts for a single revival." Remembering everything that happened, my hands quickly raised to my face, only to feel flesh. In shock, I felt my body jump up and to my feet. "Ren, don't, you shouldn't be—," of course, he protested, but I only continued to briskly move to the mirror.

I saw... my face, back to normal, like nothing happened, like that helmet never even existed.

"It's not gone, if that's what you're wondering," Zavala stood and followed me, standing behind me and staring at myself with me. "We just... couldn't get it off of you. It's still equipped now, but before Ghost went to sleep, he managed to make it appear clear and invisible, as if it was unequipped, but not."

Brask came to mind.

"Andal, is he—"

"Andal has been absent from his post. He feels... responsible." From the low and sorrowful tone of his voice, I could tell that this was serious and Brask had been exceptionally affected. "I had my ghost notify him as well as Ikora Rey, of which I assume you heard is our new Warlock Vanguard, and the Speaker of your awakening."

I turned away from the mirror, facing him. "And you... you are..."

"Vanguard Commander?"

I nodded.

He laughed, "You predicted it, not me, remember the day we initially met?"

I chuckled as well at the memory, only to end up having a coughing fit. Zavala put his hand on my back and led me back to the infirmary bed so I could sit down again.

"From Greenhorn, to Commander... not bad," He helped me get back in bed, covering me and raising the back of the bed so I could sit up. "So, Commander, what are you doing in a place like this when you obviously have other things to be doing?"

"It hasn't been the same ever since what happened, well, happened. The whole Tower saw you then and it really concerned a lot of people. But overall, things are in order."

Actions such as using your light or general super and abilities is strictly prohibited at the Tower or inside the walls. You aren't even allowed to use your secondary jump. You are allowed to have your weapons visible but usage is banned. Safety precautions, I suppose, and both I and Brask broke those rules. But then again, I never had control. That wasn't me, and he was using his toprotect the city. I just hope the Speaker sees it that way when he finally approaches us about it, which should be very soon.

"What of the Hive invasion?" I almost completely forgot about it.

Zavala hesitated, "We will discuss that later in the Vanguard hall with the others. You are now a very important piece in this puzzle, Ren, I hope you are prepared for everything that is going to be heading your way."

I am aware that the exotic I found had everything to do with what happened, but I didn't know what it was, therefore I didn't understand it. I need to speak to Brask.

I looked away from Zavala and down at my lap, twiddling my hands together as they shook rapidly. I was terrified of everything that was currently going on.

Dozing off, I almost didn't realize the sudden warmth that swarmed my frame, stronger than that of my own. Opening my eyes, I looked at Zavala upon seeing his hand latched to mine. It was an act of comfort, but the moment I made eye contact with him, I couldn't help but feel tears come to my eyes again, remembering everything I have done in my moment of falter. I remember the look in his eyes, the fear, I remember aligning the iron sights of my hand cannon with the center of his head.

His smile turned into a frown upon recognizing my despondency.

"I'm sorry, Zavala, I never meant for—"

But he only hushed me, and spoke for himself, "It wasn't your fault."

I felt his thumb caress up and down my hand to console me. You'd expect his hands to be cold due to the fact he is a wielder of not only arc, but void, which was considered rare. Brask is always complaining about how cold he is, but I suppose the combination of them both cancels out and equals to that of solar, if that makes any sense. I don't know, but all I can say is that I truly felt enhanced by his touch.

"I could have killed you," my tone was solemn, attempting to extinguish any sign of sorrow.

Zavala laughed, making me look up again in surprise, "I have lived through many battles, Ren. It will take more than a single Gunslinger shot to take me down."

I know he was trying to make a joke, and get a laugh or some expression of happiness out of me, but the reality of it all overpowered any humor. It wasn't a joke. I don't think Zavala, or anyone present at the time understands how much light was actually surging through my body at the time. It was possibly enough to kill a Guardian and demolish all of their light, meaning no revival. Zavala could have forever perished by my hands.

And if that had of happened, I would never forgive myself and persistently doubt myself as a Guardian.

But instead of pushing the topic, I decided to reach forward and actually embrace the man in both apology and thanks.

Astonished, Zavala hesitantly hugged back, but eventually relaxed. He had his armor on due to him coming to visit in his moments of free time from working as a Vanguard and Commander, so it wasn't the most comfortable embrace, yet still warm nonetheless.

"Thank you for being here," I mumbled, cheek pressed against his neck.

 _He_ _was_ _warm_.

He didn't say anything in response. The hug didn't last long, but I am assuming he understood the gesture.

Hearing the door open, we quickly separated and Zavala cleared his throat, standing as I myself, actually blushed, and sat back. The first person who entered was Ikora Rey, followed by... Andal. He managed to push past the others, taking me in with a tight, almost too tight, embrace. I felt his hot breath on my neck as he exhaled in relief. I felt scruff, meaning Brask had let himself go these past few days. He typically remains freshly shaved at all times. And there was a decent amount, meaning he must of been exceptionally stressed.

"Ren," he breathed out, pulling away. "Ren, I'm so sorry—"

"Don't," I said quickly, smiling at him. "Andal, you saved me."

His eyebrows furrowed, but soon he nodded and straightened his posture to appear professional. Brask knew he did the right thing, but the results, meaning the chance of survival, were unpredictable.

I looked back and forth to everyone standing in my infirmary room, "Can someone explain to me what is going on?" Honestly, I was nervous. I knew everyone very well, except for Ikora, but it was still pressuring being in the same room as all three Vanguards, and being the center of attention.

"Do you remember much about the other day? When you discovered the Hive on Earth," Inquired Brask, crossing his arms and returning his attitude to a more stern one.

I thought and then shook my head, "I mean, I guess."

Ikora took over, "Your Ghost recorded it all. When the Ogre killed you, the exotic engram you found managed to... decode itself." Ikora spoke slowly as if she was surprised at her own words. The only thing that can decode a wild engram is a Cryptarch. It is a very precious process, so to hear such a thing is, well, unbelievable. "It also managed to equip itself without the usage or permission of your Ghost. Guardian, the exotic revived you on its own. You. . . killed the ogre and passed out. Around this time, reinforcements were on their way in response to your Ghost's distress signal."

That's impossible. I don't remember any of that happening. I was dead. That "ogre" killed me.

Brask pulled out his own ghost and ushered it to my own as Ikora spoke. Though what she was saying was important, I concentrated on Brask's ghost as it scanned mine, actually transferring some of its light. Eventually, his blue little light slowly came on as he was compelled to awaken from his slumber. The room fell silent upon ghost's awakening. He rose into the air and immediately shifted to me. His shell relaxed when seeing me awake.

"Guardian," he said weakly, yet relieved. I smiled at him.

"Sorry to wake you up so abruptly, Ghost, but I'm afraid we need to see the data collected from Burning Lake," Brask stated sternly. His own ghost vanished.

Ghost looked at him, then slowly back at me. He was obviously hesitant. Nonetheless, he proceeded, flying forward to cast the video on one of the plain walls. Brask turned to turn off one of the lights in the room so we could see.

What was playing right now was where I first asked for ghost to begin recording. It showed me repelling the hive with substantial skill, casting my super, and also audio was enabled, so that included our dialogue exchanges. It was slowly growing more dark, so the video soon shifted to night vision colorations.

The Vanguards have already seen everything, but as the video proceeds, I personally grew more and more anxious. When the Ogre originally came out, Ghost stopped recording. I remember turning to see this as he tried to convince me to retreat, but of course, I refused.

When the video resumed, it was after I had been killed as a result of one of the Ogre's melee attacks. My body laid flat, withered and crushed, blood spewing out of my dead frame. It was a truly devastating sight, one that could make one vomit in response to the sight of gore. The video was of course in the point of view of ghost, and he was trying to get to me, spewing out many "oh no's" and shouts of my title. I don't even think he realized he was recording this. But as soon as he began the reviving process, the ogre shot his beams of light at him, so he had no choice but to fall back. Ghosts can go invisible, sure, but when they do tasks such as scanning equipment/areas, or reviving their Guardian, their camouflage gets cancelled out.

My deceased arm was outstretched, so ghost ended up following it to find the exotic Engram. Waiting until the patrolling Ogre turned his back to him, Ghost scanned the Engram only to witness it disappear. Disappointed, he turned back to me, only to see movement.

I was moving, bones snapping back into place as a scream of pain escaped my lips. It wasn't as smooth as a typical revive. I looked like I was suffering.

I brought my legs to my chest in the bed, chin sitting on my knees as I watched the video intently. The others began to get uneasy.

"Guardian! But I didn't..." he dragged, only able to watch as my body painfully revived itself, light visibly surging back into my body. "How..?"

Unfortunately, the stentorian sound of my shrieks once again attracted the attention of the Ogre. It quickly turned, roared, and stalked toward my staggering frame.

Ghost quickly flew to my body and managed to heal me. The video showed me grabbing my weapon, rising, and evading behind a large boulder in just enough time to avoid the Hive monster's void.

"Guardian, I don't understand..." The video showed my cloaked backside facing him, intently waiting for the Ogre to show its face again. "I've alerted the city of everything and reinforcements are on their way... We need to get out while we can. There is no way you can fight in this state—"

"You think me feeble? A sheep?" The recording showed me turning to ghost, and revealing that of the helmet of which automatically equipped itself. The face of a hawk. The glowing, red eyes of the Devil.

Ghost went quiet momentarily, obviously shocked at not only the helmet, but of my voice.

It was me but, it wasn't. My tone was laced in anger and venom, a tone I never before heard from myself.

"That's not what I—"

"I will not yield, Ghost!" I shouted, turning back forward as the Ogre revealed itself again. Standing, flames exploded from my frame, signalling super initiation.

"Ren, no!"

I rose the weapon, aiming, and walking forward at the same time.

And shot.

One bullet. And then it was over.

The video showed the bullet detonating within the Ogre's head, making it explode, and ultimately killing it. I watched as the thing withered away to nothing.

The fire surrounding me soon extinguished itself. Ghost said nothing, but turned upon seeing the bright light of a Vanguard ship. When turning back to me, my body collapsed, passing out.

It was then the recording concluded. Ghost turned back to me. Everyone turned to look at me.

Tears begged to cloud my eyes.

That wasn't me. It couldn't be.

Who am I?

And yet, I chose to remain strong.

"You've been chosen," Brask said. It almost sounded like it pained him to say that, "to be the next Celestial Nighthawk."

"Exotics don't choose people," Even though I knew it was true, I had the need to continue fighting that truth. "Exotics aren't 'living'."

"Then I'd really like for you to explain what the hell we just watched," there was a hint of hostility in his voice, but it wasn't intentionally hostile, it was more of a "You need to admit this to yourself" tone than anything.

I went silent. I lowered my legs to sit in a crossed position, slouching, and again twiddling my fingers. Brask approached me with a hand-mirror, holding it in front of my face. I looked up, seeing my plain, tired features, but as Ghost moved to me and scanned, skin was replaced with metal and exotic material.

"Your fire," said Brask as my armor replaced my infirmiry gown, "will never be outgunned."

My hand rose to take the mirror from him and study the helmet myself. Features of a bird, but an overall force to be reckoned with. I had a slight headache, but it wasn't as bad as the other day. My hand rose to feel it. It was warm, but not scorching.

Suddenly, we all turned when we saw the door to the infirmiry open. The Speaker entered.

"Guardian," he greeted, "It is relieving to see you awake. I hope you are adjusting well to this... change."

I nodded, placing the mirror on a bedside table. Ghost then unequipped my armor and I was again back in my gown.

"The Nighthawk had been comatose since the beginning of the Collapse," the Speaker stated. Suddenly, I felt afraid. "But... awoke in response to your light." He was clearly surprised. "I have witnessed another Guardian be chosen by it many cycles ago, but he did not survive it's trial of will. We were afraid you would face the same fate." The room fell silent for a moment. Brask's eyelids fell. "I scold myself now for ever thinking you could not. I doubted your strength and for that, I apologize. And though I am disenchanted over the other days actions performed by both you and our Hunter Vanguard, I am forgiving to the circumstances. So, do not take it for granted when I say, wield it with your coherent appetite for vengeance, Guardian."

It felt like I was just given a new title, a new job or responsibility; Granted, I was, kind of, but it was strange to think about.

I didn't feel any different, not really. I feel like I just woke up from a nightmare and things were okay, but ever since my suspicions were confirmed, there is an increasing fear within me.

I couldn't say anything, for I was still taking in everything. The Speaker clearly understood this, because he soon departed having said what he needed to say.

"We would like for you to meet us in the Vanguard Hall when you think you're ready to move," stated Ikora, looking back and forth between Brask and Zavala. "This changes... everything."

With that, the Warlock and Hunter left as well.

Zavala stayed for a second longer.

"Take your time with everything," he said softly, again reaching for my hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. I smiled, made eye contact with him, and unintentionally blushed.

 _He is so warm._

We gazed at each other for a moment before Zavala furrowed his eyebrows and looked away, coughing as if he felt awkward and standing in a professional manner. "See you soon."

I frowned as I watched him leave so abruptly, suddenly feeling a huge wave of loneliness scuttle through me.

How I'd love to have such a warmth.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

 _Okay, so I obviously exaggerated some of the facts about the Celestial Nighthawk exotic in this chapter and will proceed to for plot. No, the exotic doesn't actually revive the Guardian, but hey, it makes for a good story._

 _Also, I felt kind of awkward when writing how Ghost was equipping and unequipped armor, imagining the scene in my head and how strange it must look, but it really do be like that in the actual Destiny Universe, haha. Guardians get dressed and undressed in a matter of a mere second if they use their ghost._

 _AND, the next few chapters will be focused on Zavala and Ren as they grow closer while at the same time showing Ren adjusting to the Celestial role. YES, I KNOW, FINALLY. I did warn this would be slow burn, though. I hope you all are excited because I definitely am. It's only chapter six, but since I make them SO long, averaging about 5,000-6,000 words a chapter, I can imagine all those that are here for the romance and fluff are thinking "ABOUT TIME."_

 _If I don't update again by Christmas, I hope you all have an excellent holiday season!_

 _Remember to favorite, follow, and review if you are enjoying!_

 _Stay tuned for chapter seven❤️_


End file.
